FullReads

I.

“Lists all white and blue in the skies;
And the people hurried amain
To the Tournament under the ladies’ eyes
Where jousted Heart and Brain.

II.

“`Blow, herald, blow!’ There entered Heart,
A youth in crimson and gold.
`Blow, herald, blow!’ Brain stood apart,
Steel-armored, glittering, cold.

III.

“Heart’s palfrey caracoled gayly round,
Heart tra-li-raed merrily;
But Brain sat still, with never a sound —
Full cynical-calm was he.

IV.

“Heart’s helmet-crest bore favors three
From his lady’s white hand caught;
Brain’s casque was bare as Fact — not he
Or favor gave or sought.

V.

“`Blow, herald, blow!’ Heart shot a glance
To catch his lady’s eye;
But Brain looked straight a-front, his lance
To aim more faithfully.

VI.

“They charged, they struck; both fell, both bled;
Brain rose again, ungloved;
Heart fainting smiled, and softly said,
`My love to my Beloved.'”

Heart and Brain! no more be twain;
Throb and think, one flesh again!
Lo! they weep, they turn, they run;
Lo! they kiss: Love, thou art one!

——–

Now the Land, with drying tears,
Counts him up his flocks of years,
“See,” he says, “my substance grows;
Hundred-flocked my Herdsman goes,
Hundred-flocked my Herdsman stands
On the Past’s broad meadow-lands,
Come from where ye mildly graze,
Black herds, white herds, nights and days.
Drive them homeward, Herdsman Time,
From the meadows of the Prime:
I will feast my house, and rest.
Neighbor East, come over West;
Pledge me in good wine and words
While I count my hundred herds,
Sum the substance of my Past
From the first unto the last,
Chanting o’er the generous brim
Cloudy memories yet more dim,
Ghostly rhymes of Norsemen pale
Staring by old Bjoerne’s sail,
Strains more noble of that night
Worn Columbus saw his Light,
Psalms of still more heavenly tone,
How the Mayflower tossed alone,
Olden tale and later song
Of the Patriot’s love and wrong,
Grandsire’s ballad, nurse’s hymn —
Chanting o’er the sparkling brim
Till I shall from first to last
Sum the substance of my Past.”

——–

Then called the Artist’s God from in the sky:
“This Time shall show by dream and mystery
The heart of all his matter to thine eye.
Son, study stars by looking down in streams,
Interpret that which is by that which seems,
And tell thy dreams in words which are but dreams.”

I.

The Master with His lucent hand
Pinched up the atom hills and plains
O’er all the moiety of land
The ocean-bounded West contains:
The dust lay dead upon the calm
And mighty middle of His palm.

II.

And lo! He wrought full tenderly,
And lo! He wrought with love and might,
And lo! He wrought a thing to see
Was marvel in His people’s sight:
He wrought His image dead and small,
A nothing fashioned like an All.

III.

Then breathed He softly on the dead:
“Live Self! — thou part, yet none, of Me;
Dust for humility,” He said,
“And my warm breath for Charity.
Behold my latest work, thou Earth!
The Self of Man is taking birth.”

IV.

Then, Land, tall Adam of the West,
Thou stood’st upon the springy sod,
Thy large eye ranging self-possest,
Thy limbs the limbs of God’s young god,
Thy Passion murmuring `I will’ —
Lord of the Lordship Good-and-Ill.

V.

O manful arms, of supple size
To clasp a world or a waist as well!
O manful eyes, to front the skies
Or look much pity down on hell!
O manful tongue, to work and sing,
And soothe a child and dare a king!

VI.

O wonder! Now thou sleep’st in pain,
Like as some dream thy soul did grieve:
God wounds thee, heals thee whole again,
And calls thee trembling to thine Eve.
Wide-armed, thou dropp’st on knightly knee:
`Dear Love, Dear Freedom, go with me!’

VII.

Then all the beasts before thee passed —
Beast War, Oppression, Murder, Lust,
False Art, False Faith, slow skulking last —
And out of Time’s thick-rising dust
Thy Lord said, “Name them, tame them, Son;
Nor rest, nor rest, till thou hast done.”

VIII.

Ah, name thou false, or tame thou wrong,
At heart let no man fear for thee:
Thy Past sings ever Freedom’s Song,
Thy Future’s voice sounds wondrous free;
And Freedom is more large than Crime,
And Error is more small than Time.

IX.

Come, thou whole Self of Latter Man!
Come o’er thy realm of Good-and-Ill,
And do, thou Self that say’st `I can,’
And love, thou Self that say’st `I will;’
And prove and know Time’s worst and best,
Thou tall young Adam of the West!

___
Baltimore, 1876.