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-The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Freeman, and Other Poems, by Ellen
-Glasgow
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
-most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
-whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
-of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
-www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you
-will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before
-using this eBook.
-
-Title: The Freeman, and Other Poems
-
-Author: Ellen Glasgow
-
-Release Date: June 9, 2021 [eBook #65574]
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: UTF-8
-
-Produced by: Tim Lindell, Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed
-             Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was
-             produced from images generously made available by The Internet
-             Archive/American Libraries.)
-
-*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FREEMAN, AND OTHER POEMS ***
-
-
-
-
-                              THE FREEMAN
-                            AND OTHER POEMS
-
-
-
-
-                              THE FREEMAN
-                            AND OTHER POEMS
-
-                                  BY
-                             ELLEN GLASGOW
-
-                         [Illustration: leaf]
-
-                               NEW YORK
-                         DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & CO.
-                                 MCMII
-
-
-
-
-                          Copyright, 1902, by
-                         DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & CO.
-
-
-                          THE DEVINNE PRESS.
-
-
-
-
-                                  TO
-                        LOUISE COLLIER WILLCOX
-
-
-
-
-                               CONTENTS
-
-
-The Freeman,                                                          13
-
-A Creed,                                                              15
-
-The Traveller,                                                        16
-
-A Prayer,                                                             18
-
-A Battle Cry,                                                         19
-
-Fame,                                                                 20
-
-Resurrection,                                                         21
-
-The Shadow,                                                           22
-
-Justice,                                                              25
-
-Drinking-song,                                                        26
-
-Coward Memory,                                                        28
-
-The Sage,                                                             29
-
-War,                                                                  31
-
-The True Comedian,                                                    32
-
-Aridity,                                                              33
-
-Reunion,                                                              34
-
-Love has Passed Along the Way,                                        35
-
-A Suppliant,                                                          36
-
-The Mountain Pine,                                                    38
-
-The Master Hand,                                                      39
-
-To a Strange God,                                                     40
-
-The Vision of Hell,                                                   44
-
-Death-in-Life,                                                        47
-
-To My Dog,                                                            50
-
-England’s Greatness,                                                  51
-
-Mary,                                                                 53
-
-The Hunter,                                                           55
-
-
-
-
-                              THE FREEMAN
-                            AND OTHER POEMS
-
-
-
-
-              THE FREEMAN
-
-    “_Hope is a slave, Despair is a freeman_”
-
-
-    A vagabond between the East and West,
-      Careless I greet the scourging and the rod;
-    I fear no terror any man may bring,
-                  Nor any god.
-
-    The clankless chains that bound me I have rent
-      No more a slave to hope I cringe or cry;
-    Captives to Fate, men rear their prison walls,
-                  But free am I.
-
-    I tread where arrows press upon my path,
-      I smile to see the danger and the dart;
-    My breast is bared to meet the slings of hate,
-                  But not my heart.
-
-    I face the thunder and I face the rain,
-      I lift my head, defiance far I fling--
-    My feet are set, I face the autumn as
-                  I face the spring.
-
-    Around me, on the battle-fields of life,
-      I see men fight and fail and crouch in prayer;
-    Aloft I stand unfettered, for I know
-                  The freedom of despair.
-
-
-
-
-          A CREED
-
-
-    In fellowship of living things,
-      In kindred claims of Man and Beast,
-    In common courtesy that brings
-      Help from the greater to the least,
-    In love that all life shall receive,
-                      Lord, I believe.
-
-    In peace, earth’s passion far above,
-      In pity, measured not nor priced,
-    In all souls luminous with love,
-      Alike in Buddha and in Christ,
-    In any rights that wrongs retrieve,
-                      Lord, I believe.
-
-    In truth that falsehood cannot span,
-      In the majestic march of Laws,
-    That weed and flower and worm and man
-      Result from One Supernal Cause,
-    In doubts that dare and faiths that cleave,
-                      Lord, I believe.
-
-
-
-
-          THE TRAVELLER
-
-
-    The storm clouds swirl against the moon,
-      The hawk flies black across the snow,
-    My steed shies at the shifting gloom,
-      The darkness thickens where I go.
-        But I ride on when stars are flown,
-        As one who journeys to his own.
-
-    From hamlets draped in frozen white
-      The flames of ruddy windows fall,
-    Above the lashing of the night
-      I hear the cheerful voices call.
-        The homely hearths are lit in vain
-        For one who rides across the plain.
-
-    The sharp blasts beat upon my breast,
-      The wolves bay loud behind my back;
-    I greet their howls with jest for jest,
-      And laugh to hear them on my track.
-        Across the night with terrors sown,
-        I spur and journey to my own.
-
-    From open graves on either side,
-      Wan fingers rise and beckon me;
-    Old wrongs, uprooted as I ride,
-      Cry out that right is yet to be.
-        Dead faces throng upon the way,
-        Dead voices speak and bid me stay.
-
-    The night hawk flies across the snow--
-      My way leads past the furthest hill;
-    Though beggared to the tryst I go,
-      Death waits to woo me to her will.
-        I press my spurs, I ride alone,
-        I laugh and journey to my own.
-
-
-
-
-          A PRAYER
-
-
-    Grant me but courage, Lord!
-      I ask not that Thou smooth the appointed path;
-    I ask not any joys the years afford,
-      I ask not even Thine averted wrath.
-
-    Let me but learn to smile--
-      Let me face lightly any blow that falls;
-    Bear bravely with my bondage all the while,
-      And hug my freedom within prison walls.
-
-    Thus when the end draws near,
-      With lifted head let me the potion quaff,
-    And so--as one who never learned to fear--
-      Pass on to meet Thy judgment with a laugh.
-
-
-
-
-          A BATTLE CRY
-
-
-    I have made my stand at last
-      Where the thickest foes are found;
-    I shall fall as I have fought,
-      Yielding inch by inch the ground.
-
-    I have no surrender given,
-      I have measured hate with hate;
-    I have never stooped to call,
-      “Quarter!” to victorious Fate.
-
-    When sore pressed I have not sought
-      Aid from comrades in the field;
-    I have never turned to find
-      Succour from a friendly shield.
-
-    This shall be my guerdon gained,
-      When the hounds of war are passed:
-    “Peace to him who fought alone,
-      And who fell alone at last.”
-
-
-
-
-          FAME
-
-
-    In life he lived among them and they cast
-                Him stones for bread.
-    He that was mightiest of them all had not
-                Whereon to lay his head.
-
-    In death, where flaming poppies fired the dust,
-                They brought a laurel wreath:
-    Honour to ashes on the coffin lid!
-                Fame to the skull beneath!
-
-
-
-
-          RESURRECTION
-
-
-    The trumpet of the Judgment shook the night,
-      Dust quickened and was flesh; grave-clothes were shed;
-    With moaning of strong travail and lament,
-      The sea gave up her dead.
-
-    One, rising from a rotting tomb, beheld
-      The heavens unfold beneath Jehovah’s breath.
-    “Great God!” he cried, “with Thine eternity,
-      Couldst Thou not leave me Death?”
-
-
-
-
-          THE SHADOW
-
-
-    It has followed me for years,
-      I have seen It slim and tall;
-    When the day its distance wears,
-      It has lengthened on the wall;
-                  Slanting black
-                  On my track,
-      I have felt Its presence fall.
-
-    Oft I flee at break of day,
-      But It races as I ride;
-    Oft I seek to slink away,
-      But It slouches at my side;
-                  Or It steals
-                  On my heels,
-      As the bridegroom to the bride.
-
-    As I roam along the track
-      Of the vagrants o’er the leas;
-    Oft I mark one glancing back,
-      And I ask him what he sees--
-                  But they laugh
-                  As they chaff,
-      “’Tis his shadow that he flees!”
-
-    I shall ask of one I love,
-      Pointing to Its passage fleet,
-    As along the ways we rove,
-      What It is that haunts the street.
-                  She will say,
-                  “Nay, nay, nay,
-      ’Tis the shadow at your feet!”
-
-    I shall wink and see the trick--
-      Do they dream that I am blind?
-    I have but to turn, and quick,
-      On my pathway I shall find
-                  That It wags,
-                  And It lags,
-      But It follows close behind.
-
-    All the night It hides Its shape
-      In the dusk beside my bed;
-    If my vigil I escape,
-      If I once but turn my head,
-                  While I sleep,
-                  It will creep,
-      Till I lie beneath It dead.
-
-    And the end at last shall come,
-      Weariness will close my eyes,
-    I shall fall before It dumb,
-      When unto my heart It flies.
-                  It will gloat
-                  O’er my throat,
-      As Its length upon me lies.
-
-
-
-
-          JUSTICE
-
-
-    They cursed her with the curse of God,
-      They smote her with His awful Name:
-    With brands of fire they branded her,
-      And brands of shame.
-
-    She fell beside the road and lay
-      Silent within the sounding place;
-    A dog turned from the passers-by
-      And licked her face.
-
-    Their anger melted into tears;
-      They wept for her they had disowned--
-    They bore her to her grave, and then
-      The dog they stoned.
-
-
-
-
-          DRINKING-SONG
-
-
-    Fill the bowl and praise the wine,
-      Give good measure, rise and quaff--
-    (Who dares say the dawn-stars shine?
-      Brothers, shame him by a laugh.)
-    What knows he of soon or late,
-    Who has been the fool of Fate?
-
-    Kiss the blue eyes and the brown,
-      Cheeks that pale and cheeks that glow,
-    Kiss the smile and kiss the frown,
-      Lightly love and lightly go.
-    He knows neither love nor hate,
-    Who has been the fool of Fate.
-
-    Clasp a stranger by the hand,
-      Call it friendship for a day;
-    When alone you see him stand,
-      Swear you only spoke in play.
-    What cares he for friend or mate,
-    Who has been the fool of Fate?
-
-    Gather laurels that decay,
-      Wear them withered on your breast;
-    Ere they crumble in a day;
-      Tread them under foot in jest.
-    What knows he of honour’s weight,
-    Who has been the fool of Fate?
-
-    Take the best that Life can give,
-      Drink, but do not pass it on.
-    Live to drink and drink to live--
-      (Who spoke of a dream foregone?)
-    He has seen all dreams abate,
-    Who has been the fool of Fate.
-
-    Dreams! What dreams of heaven or hell?
-      Gods that bless and Gods that spurn?
-    What if lighter blows befell,
-      Does he bide till death to burn?
-    What cares he for hells that wait,
-    Who has been the fool of Fate?
-
-
-
-
-          COWARD MEMORY
-
-
-    A street half flecked with shade and sun,
-      A last year’s leaf along it blown,
-    A gray wall where green lichens run;
-      Like water falling on dry stone,
-    A robin’s ripe notes dropping one by one.
-
-    Sad sun and shade and sadness over all
-      The distance blended into solemn hues,
-    On the warm air suspended as a pall
-      The sweetness dying violets diffuse,
-    While from a single tree the ashen elm flowers fall.
-
-    At the street’s sudden end a shining square,
-      The sunny threshold of an open door,
-    Thick with the dust of an untrodden stair
-      That leads beyond me to the upper floor--
-    Then memory halts--it dares not enter there.
-
-
-
-
-          THE SAGE
-
-
-    I do not see the lightning’s flash,
-      Nor hear the thunder’s din;
-    What though the storms about me crash--
-      My refuge is within.
-
-    Though every evil stands confest,
-      And every pleasure flies,
-    I bear a world within my breast,
-      A light within my eyes.
-
-    Of every fount from out the earth
-      I, too, have drunk my fill,
-    And all the joys I count of worth
-      Become my own at will.
-
-    Though I have never loved a maid,
-      Love’s heights I may ascend;
-    Though no friend’s hand my own has stayed,
-      I still can pledge my friend.
-
-    From good and bad alike I draw
-      Security of soul;
-    Naught happens but becomes a law
-      To strengthen my control.
-
-    No passions ever rock my heart,
-      I know not fear nor hate;
-    A peace in which all worlds have part
-      Encompasses my fate.
-
-    I dread not any form of wrath,
-      I hate not any sin;
-    Whatever grief assail my path,
-      It cannot come within.
-
-    For there secure my spirit reigns,
-      Serene amid unrest,
-    Since all that Life or Death contains
-      I hold within my breast.
-
-
-
-
-          WAR
-
-
-    Ripples of ribbons borne on high,
-    Bloodstains upon a brazen sky;
-    From cannon belching on the plain,
-    Fire that by fire is fought again.
-    A flash where steel by steel is met;
-    A fume of smoke and blood and sweat.
-    Sharp from the smeared and trodden gorse
-    The death-cry of a wounded horse.
-
-    Dust of a plain ground into red
-    By armies of majestic dead.
-    Gaunt shadows on the changeless sky,
-    A flock of vultures swarming nigh.
-    ’Mid ashes where a hearth has stood,
-    Children that cry aloud for food.
-    Where green the peaceful highways run,
-    A woman ravished in the sun.
-    And far across the reeking sod
-    A Nation sounding thanks to God.
-
-
-
-
-          THE TRUE COMEDIAN
-
-
-    What if the road is rough, the dart
-      Of mischance levelled at thy breast?
-    Beyond the shudder and the smart,
-      Canst thou not see the jest?
-
-    What if the arrow in the sling
-      Was tipped with poison ere it flew?
-    Since thine the hurt and thine the sting,
-      Be thine the laughter too.
-
-    Canst thou not read the wit that lies
-      Beneath the bold burlesque of Fate?
-    Or art thou sick of parodies
-      Who playest with love and hate?
-
-    What! take the stage again and gasp
-      The comedy of self-control?--
-    Nay, better stand aside to grasp
-      The humour of the whole.
-
-
-
-
-          ARIDITY
-
-
-    She looked unto the east and saw
-      A pallid stretch of sickly sea;
-    Unto the west she turned and met
-      The land’s aridity.
-
-    A bloodless wave of rising sun
-      Was flung across her open door;
-    It smote her like a slimy thing,
-      And crawled along the floor.
-
-    Her hands took up the weary round--
-      A colourless and common part.
-    Her stillborn hopes were buried in
-      The desert of her heart.
-
-
-
-
-          REUNION
-
-
-    Ah, hold me fast! What of the day?
-      I care not if the sun be dead,
-    Nor if the stars be gold or gray.
-      Nay, though the rising moon be red,
-        Our dawn is here, our night is past,
-        The world may fade--but hold me fast!
-
-    Ah, hold me fast! What of the years?
-      I care not if our youth be fled,
-    Nor that our drink be blood and tears,
-      And bitterness our daily bread.
-        Nay, though the flames of hell be cast--
-        They light thy face--ah, hold me fast!
-
-
-
-
-          LOVE HAS PASSED ALONG THE WAY
-
-
-    Love has passed along the way--
-      Lo! the doors have opened wide,
-    Hands have beckoned him to stay,
-      Hearts have fluttered to his side.
-    Let him loiter as he may,
-    Love has passed along the way.
-
-    Ah, what means the vacant room?
-      Ashes where the flames were red?
-    What the shudder in the gloom?
-      What the corpse upon the bed?
-    Break my heart as best it may,
-    Love has passed along the way.
-
-
-
-
-          A SUPPLIANT
-
-
-    Lo, these many years I lay,
-      As a suppliant to my God,
-    Bore the Cross upon my breast,
-      Bowed my head beneath the rod.
-
-    I have kept my temple fair,
-      I have watched it day and night,
-    Lo, my cruse of oil is full,
-      And my lamp of faith is bright!
-
-    I have knelt these many years,
-      Lord, and I am kneeling still;
-    On my spirit send Thy grace,
-      On my body work Thy will.
-
-    For at last I shall arise,
-      I shall stand before Thy throne,
-    Saying: “Lord, the night is past,
-      And I come to claim my own!”
-
-    Saying: “I have served Thee well,
-      Great my fathers’ God and mine,
-    I have kept Thy temple white,
-      And the lamp of faith is Thine.
-
-    “I have knelt my whole years long,
-      Now I must arise and stand;
-    There is one among the lost
-      Who shall clasp me by the hand.
-
-    “All the prayers that I have prayed
-      Were as naught could this not be,
-    That wherever he has lain
-      He might stretch his hand to me.
-
-    “All the years that I have bowed,
-      Kneeling there, I knelt in vain,
-    Could I not in heaven or hell
-      Look and see his face again.
-
-    “I shall hold his hand in mine
-      When I make my prayer to Thee.
-    ‘Lord, as one and not as twain,
-      Deal with him and deal with me.’”
-
-
-
-
-          THE MOUNTAIN PINE
-
-
-    Around me in the void of night there moves
-      The struggle of uncreate worlds to be,
-    The stars are not the stars, I hear afar
-      The planets’ minstrelsy.
-
-    For me there is no time, no space, no depth,
-      No love, no hate, no passionate despair.
-    I face my destiny--to what has been
-      And will be, I am heir.
-
-    The vulture sails below me, and across
-      Immeasurable spaces tempests roll.
-    Decay cannot unmake me, I am part
-      Of an eternal whole.
-
-
-
-
-          THE MASTER HAND
-
-     WRITTEN BEFORE ANDREA DEL SARTO’S PORTRAIT OF HIMSELF
-
-
-    The master hand lifted the brush, and lo,
-      Colour and light took form at his command,
-    When Death struck down with an immortal blow
-                The master hand.
-
-    A heap of clay becomes a heap of sand,
-      The mad, tumultuous centuries bestow
-    Laurel and dust to sweeten Death’s demand.
-
-    Dust chills desire, and laurel lieth low,
-      But art’s eternal hills triumphant stand--
-    Whose summits feel in one long afterglow
-                The master hand.
-
-
-
-
-          TO A STRANGE GOD
-
-      IN THE BRITISH MUSEUM, AUGUST, 1896
-
-
-    All day within the clanging town
-      There sounds the press of weary feet;
-    All night do men and beasts go down
-      Into the struggle of the street.
-          From sun to sun, from round to round,
-          The reek of sweat pollutes the ground.
-
-    The clamour of discordant days
-      Reaches the desecrated room
-    Where faces wan from alien ways
-      Shine through the daylight to the gloom,
-          Where, thick with dust and shadows sown,
-          A heathen god lies overthrown.
-
-    His altar is a case of glass;
-      Strange laughter flies into his face;
-    From side to side before him pass
-      Rude voices of a younger race.
-          Around him, stripped of gold and flowers,
-          Lie gods of other creeds than ours.
-
-    He looks before him and he harks
-      The heathen scoffing at his shame;
-    Like arrows in the air he marks
-      The lips that trifle with his name;
-          And he whose worship they disown,
-          He smiles on them--a God of stone.
-
-    He smiles upon them, on his face
-      No graven majesty beguiles.
-    They mock his Godhead--from his place
-      He bends unto them and he smiles.
-          His favours as a garnered sheaf
-          Know not belief from unbelief.
-
-    He sits in silence, he who saw
-      The hoary homage of the East--
-    Before whose sovereignty of Law
-      There bowed, adoring, man and beast.
-          He sits in silence, and a God
-          He bows himself beneath the rod.
-
-    O God of stone! to whom the years
-      Rustle like leaves that drop away,
-    The seal upon thy forehead bears
-      The impress of a larger day.
-          No doubt that damns may bid to cease
-          Thine old insuperable peace.
-
-    When, blind with carnage that inflames,
-      We pander to the pangs of lust,
-    Our orgies falter, and the shames
-      That hold us dwindle into dust.
-          From gods of flesh that we have known
-          We turn to thee--a God of stone.
-
-    Our right hath been the right of steel,
-      Our litany the battle-cry;
-    Bound and abased beneath our heel,
-      Thy chosen people prostrate lie.
-          And where thy children came in prayer,
-          Our proud hosannas rend the air.
-
-    Though we have warred with doubts for deeds,
-      Our fortresses and faiths decay,
-    Our altars rot with canker creeds--
-      Thou art forever and to-day;
-          No sacrifice averts thy frown,
-          No worship brings thy blessing down.
-
-    Far as the East is from the West,
-      Thy graven smile this curse hath cast--
-    Thy vengeance is our own unrest,
-      Our future is a people’s past.
-          The blows that on thine image fall
-          Are blows that smite the God of all.
-
-
-
-
-          THE VISION OF HELL
-
-
-    I died and passed from earth and went my way,
-      I trod the starry gulf from sphere to sphere,
-    I felt the breath of God upon my brow
-            As I drew near.
-
-    I paused above Infinity’s abyss,
-      Scanning the upward path my spirit trod;
-    A million silver planets spun between
-            The earth and God.
-
-    Yet, scarlet on the ether’s inky waves,
-      The crooked orbit of the earth was cast;
-    Dark silhouettes against that solemn light,
-            Its countless creatures passed.
-
-    I saw those mortal shadows stumble on,
-      Rising in anguish, passing in a breath,
-    Blind atoms, treading their predestined doom
-            From birth to death.
-
-    Upon the smiling mask that Nature wears,
-      Was writ the blasphemy of human wills;
-    I saw man’s bloody footprint on the shore,
-            His hand upon the hills.
-
-    I heard his laughter as he passed along,
-      I heard the mortal boast immortal breath;
-    I saw the earth in tragic irony,
-            Plunge to its death.
-
-    Then low into Jehovah’s listening ear
-      I spoke: “O God of Gods, the life you gave
-    Is but a lying travesty, whose lie
-            Ends in the grave.
-
-    “Look on the lives that you have made and marred,
-      Filing gray phantoms in a hapless train:
-    The stronger finds your heaven; the weaker finds
-            An endless pain.
-
-    “O God, within the hollow of whose hand
-      A million worlds are tossed to win or lose,
-    You choose the stronger for salvation, but
-            The damned I choose.
-
-    “I take my stand upon the weaker side,
-      I grasp the sinner’s hand, I share his fate;
-    The hell of those who failed, I choose, or those
-            Who win too late.”
-
-    God smiled: across the inky ether way,
-      A flash that lighted worlds supernal fell.
-    “It is the damned you look upon,” God said:
-            “The earth is hell.”
-
-
-
-
-          DEATH-IN-LIFE
-
-
-    When the blasts beat loud and the tempests shriek,
-      And the winds are smote as the chords of a lyre,
-    I curtain the cold where the corners leak,
-      Tossing the logs till the flames leap higher,
-    As I sit on the hearth while the rafters creak,
-      Feeding the fangs of the hungry fire.
-        (_Hark! ’tis a child on the howling plain!_
-        _Nay, the fir-tree’s tap on the window pane._)
-
-    Do you hear her knock? Are her feet on the stones?
-      She may call in vain, for the storm is loud,
-    And her speech is the rattle of rigid bones.
-      Perchance she is lost where the thickets crowd;
-    It is far from the church where a vault she owns,
-      And for cover she has but a crumbling shroud.
-        (_’Tis a mad soul clutched by a demon--hist_!
-        _Nay, nay, but the wail of the wind, I wist._)
-
-    She enters the door with a blast of cold--
-      She enters to me and to my embrace;
-    Her fingers are freed from their fleshly fold,
-      The veil is rent from her ashen face.
-    To her sheet there lingers a scent of mould,
-      Where the wily worms have woven a trace.
-        (_Hark! is it Love on the writhing rack!_
-        _Nay, nay, but the wolves on a shepherd’s track._)
-
-    She has taken her seat at my board of pine,
-      We have poured the water and broken the bread,
-    I have pledged her health in the blood-red wine,
-      She has bowed to me with her spectral head.
-    I am hers forever, as she is mine,
-      I shall lie with her in her nuptial bed.
-        (_Hark! ’tis a stroke on a coffin nail!_
-        _Nay, the beat of your heart as the pulses fail!_)
-
-    From her fleshless lips I have felt her kiss
-      (The room is small, but the world is wide).
-    What matter the honours that I shall miss,
-      When I find her lying against my side?
-    From the reefs of Fate God has spared me this--
-      The love that is long and the breast of a bride.
-        (_For bone of my bone I have chosen Death!_
-        _“Nay, nay--ah, love, I am Life,” she saith._)
-
-
-
-
-          TO MY DOG
-
-
-    O tried and true! together we have passed
-      Life’s whirlpool, and have felt Fate’s heaviest blow--
-    Shall I, then, stand the traitor at the last?
-      Or prize a heaven that you could never know?
-
-
-
-
-          ENGLAND’S GREATNESS
-
-      AT THE GRAVE OF CHARLES DARWIN, 1896
-
-
-    England’s greatness! not the sword avenging,
-      Not the nations bowed beneath her heel;
-    Not the cross of blood that to her kingdoms
-                    Sets its seal.
-
-    These are ghosts of old barbaric splendours,
-      Rotting where Imperial Rome lies low;
-    Things that thrill the heart like tales of slaughter
-                    Long ago.
-
-    Far beyond them is her glory shining,
-      Brighter than the sword within the sun;
-    It shall last when her superb oppressions
-                    All are done.
-
-    Other armies has she as victorious,
-      Slayers these whose hands are clean of blood,
-    Soldiers whose sublime and steadfast phalanx
-                    Wrong withstood.
-
-    England’s greatness! this abides unchanging,
-      Won by arms that sound no loud refrains:
-    When all wars and warriors shall have perished,
-                    Truth remains.
-
-
-
-
-          MARY
-
-
-    Daughter of dreams and visions,
-      Flushed by the world’s desire,
-    Empress of priests’ decisions,
-      Priestess of altar fire--
-    Treading a march immortal,
-      As the Cross to the sunrise swings,
-    Passing the inmost portal,
-      Over the crowns of kings--
-    _By the worship with which we woo thee,_
-      _By the hymns that our hearts repeat,_
-    _By the flames that have burned unto thee,_
-      _By the prayers that have warmed thy feet,_
-    _By the moons that have risen below thee,_
-      _By the stars that have set on thy brow,_
-    _By the saints that have suffered to know thee,_
-      _We hail thee “Blessed,” now._
-
-    Mother of all the Sorrows,
-      Pierced by the world’s despair,
-    Wearing a veil that borrows
-      Gloom from our earthly air;
-    Broken by ceaseless sighing,
-      Ravaged by endless tears,
-    Bearing thy pangs undying
-      Into the dying years--
-    _By the sweat on thy brow that paleth,_
-      _By the Cross where thy heart has lain,_
-    _By memory’s pang that naileth_
-      _Thy heart to the wood again,_
-    _By the passions that rise below thee,_
-      _By the sorrows enthroned on thy brow,_
-    _By the hearts that have broken to know thee,_
-      _We hail thee “Blessed,” now._
-
-
-
-
-          THE HUNTER
-
-
-    I sit within the sodden gloom,
-    Amid the dead that wall the room;
-    Through galleries damp that reek decay,
-    My stumbling feet have groped the way.
-    Mine eyes that shudder at the light
-    Have read the secrets of the night--
-    From skeletons with toothless jaws
-    I wring the utterance of the laws.
-
-    Where foul the spider makes his lair,
-    I con the lesson of his care.
-    In threads too fine for mortal eyes
-    I read Eternal Mysteries.
-    In graves of mouldered love and lust,
-    I search for secrets of the dust;
-    Through palls with time and ashes spread,
-    I plunge my hands among the dead.
-
-    Then forth into the light of day,
-    I fare again upon my way.
-    A grain of sand, a blade of grass,
-    Smite me to silence as I pass.
-    In living men and worms I trace
-    Old allegories of the race;
-    In weeds put forth from out the sod
-    I read the Scriptures of my God.
-
-    Unto the hills I mount and see
-    The vultures of the mountains flee;
-    My failing eyes I backward cast
-    To glean the harvest of the past.
-    My tottering feet have paused alone
-    Before the barriers of the known--
-    For onward still, through wrong and ruth,
-    I fare--a hunter of the Truth.
-
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