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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. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FREEMAN, AND OTHER POEMS *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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