The Soul, its destinies—the real real,

(Purport of all these apparitions of the real ;) In thee, America, the Soul, its destinies;

Thou globe of globes! thou wonder nebulous!

By many a throe of heat and cold convuls'd—(by these thyseli

solidifying ;)

IIL

Thou mental, moral orb! thou New, indeed new, Spiritua

World!

The Present holds thee not-for such vast growth as thine-for such unparallel'd flight as thine,

The Future only holds thee, and can hold thee.

THE MYSTIC TRUMPETER.

First published in "As a Strong Bird," etc., 1872.

I

HARK! some wild trumpeter-some strange musician,
Hovering unseen in air, vibrates capricious tunes to-night.

I hear thee, trumpeter-listening, alert, I catch thy notes,
Now pouring, whirling like a tempest round me,
Now low, subdued-now in the distance lost.

2

Come nearer, bodiless one-haply, in thee resounds
Some dead composer-haply thy pensive life

Was fill'd with aspirations high-unform'd ideals,

Waves, oceans musical, chaotically surging,

That now, ecstatic ghost, close to me bending, thy cornet echo

ing, pealing,

Gives out to no one's ears but mine-but freely gives to mine, That I may thee translate.

3

Blow, trumpeter, free and clear-I follow thee,

While at thy liquid prelude, glad, serene,

ΙΟ

The fretting world, the streets, the noisy hours of day, withdraw;

A holy calm descends, like dew, upon me,

I walk, in cool refreshing night, the walks of Paradise,

I scent the grass, the moist air, and the roses;

Thy song expands my numb'd, imbonded spirit-thou freest,

launchest me,

Floating and basking upon Heaven's lake.

4

Blow again, trumpeter! and for my sensuous eyes,
Bring the old pageants-show the feudal world.

20

What charm thy music works!-thou makest pass before me, Ladies and cavaliers long dead-barons are in their castle hallsthe troubadours are singing;

Arm'd knights go forth to redress wrongs—some in quest of the Holy Grail:

I see the tournament-I see the contestants, encased in heavy armor, seated on stately, champing horses;

I hear the shouts-the sounds of blows and smiting steel:

I see the Crusaders' tumultuous armies-Hark! how the cymbals clang!

Lo! where the monks walk in advance, bearing the cross on high!

5

Blow again, trumpeter! and for thy theme,

30

Take now the enclosing theme of all-the solvent and the setting;
Love, that is pulse of all-the sustenace and the pang;
The heart of man and woman all for love;

No other theme but love-knitting, enclosing, all-diffusing love.

O, how the immortal phantoms crowd around me!

I see the vast alembic ever working-I see and know the flames that heat the world;

The glow, the blush, the beating hearts of lovers,

So blissful happy some-and some so silent, dark, and nigh to

death:

Love, that is all the earth to lovers-Love, that mocks time and

space;

Love, that is day and night-Love, that is sun and moon and

stars;

Love, that is crimson, sumptuous, sick with perfume;

40

No other words, but words of love-no other thought but Love.

6

Blow again, trumpeter-conjure war's wild alarums.

Swift to thy spell, a shuddering hum like distant thunder rolls; Lo! where the arm'd men hasten-Lo! mid the clouds of dust, the glint of bayonets ;

I see the grime-faced cannoniers-I mark the rosy flash amid the smoke-I hear the cracking of the guns:

-Nor war alone-thy fearful music-song, wild player, brings every sight of fear,

The deeds of ruthless brigands-rapine, murder-I hear the cries for help!

I see ships foundering at sea-I behold on deck, and below deck, the terrible tableaux. 49

7

O trumpeter! methinks I am myself the instrument thou playest! Thou melt'st my heart, my brain-thou movest, drawest, changest them, at will:

And now thy sullen notes send darkness through me;

Thou takest away all cheering light-all hope :

I see the enslaved, the overthrown, the hurt, the opprest of the whole earth;

I feel the measureless shame and humiliation of my race-it becomes all mine;

Mine too the revenges of humanity-the wrongs of ages-baffled feuds and hatreds;

Utter defeat upon me weighs-all lost! the foe victorious! (Yet 'mid the ruins Pride colossal stands, unshaken to the last ; Endurance, resolution, to the last.)

Now, trumpeter, for thy close,

8

Vouchsafe a higher strain than any yet;

Sing to my soul-renew its languishing faith and hope;

Rouse up my slow belief-give me some vision of the future;

Give me, for once, its prophecy and joy.

O glad, exulting, culminating song!

A vigor more than earth's is in thy notes!

60

Marches of victory-man disenthrall'd-the conqueror at last!
Hymns to the universal God, from universal Man-all joy !
A reborn race appears-a perfect World, all joy!

Women and Men, in wisdom, innocence and health—all joy!
Riotous, laughing bacchanals, fill'd with joy!

71

War, sorrow, suffering gone-The rank earth purged--nothing but joy left!

The ocean fill'd with joy-the atmosphere all joy!

Joy! Joy! in freedom, worship, love! Joy in the ecstacy of life!
Enough to merely be! Enough to breathe!
Joy Joy all over Joy!

O STAR OF FRANCE!

1870-71.

First published in "As a Strong Bird," 1872.

I

O STAR of France !

The brightness of thy hope and strength and fame,
Like some proud ship that led the fleet so long,

Beseems to-day a wreck, driven by the gale-a mastless hulk ;
And 'mid its teeming, madden'd, half-drown'd crowds,

Orb not of France alone-pale symbol of my soul, its dearest hopes,

The struggle and the daring-rage divine for liberty,

Of aspirations toward the far ideal-enthusiast's dreams of

Star panting o'er a land of death-heroic land!

Strange, passionate, mocking, frivolous land. ·

ΙΟ

Miserable! yet for thy errors, vanities, sins, I will not now re buke thee;

Thy unexampled woes and pangs have quell'd them all,
And left thee sacred.

In that amid thy many faults, thou ever aimedest highly,

In that thou wouldst not really sell thyself, however great the

price,

In that thou surely wakedst weeping from thy drugg'd sleep, 20 In that alone, among thy sisters, thou, Giantess, didst rend the ones that shamed thee,

In that thou couldst not, wouldst not, wear the usual chains,
This cross, thy livid face, thy pierced hands and feet,
The spear thrust in thy side.

4

O star! O ship of France, beat back and baffled long!
Bear up, O smitten orb ! O ship, continue on!

Sure, as the ship of all, the Earth itself,
Product of deathly fire and turbulent chaos,
Forth from its spasms of fury and its poisons,
Issuing at last in perfect power and beauty,
Onward, beneath the sun, following its course,
So thee, O ship of France!

Finish'd the days, the clouds dispell'd,

The travail o'er, the long-sought extrication,

When lo! reborn, high o'er the European world,

૩૦

(In gladness, answering thence, as face afar to face, reflecting ours, Columbia,)

Again thy star, O France-fair, lustrous star,

In heavenly peace, clearer, more bright than ever,

Shall beam immortal.

VIRGINIA-THE WEST.

First published in "As a Strong Bird," etc., 1872.

I

THE noble Sire, fallen on evil days,

I saw, with hand uplifted, menacing, brandishing,
(Memories of old in abeyance-love and faith in abeyance,)
The insane knife toward the Mother of All.

2

The noble Son, on sinewy feet advancing,

I saw out of the land of prairies-land of Ohio's waters, and of Indiana,

To the rescue, the stalwart giant, hurry his plenteous offspring, Drest in blue, bearing their trusty rifles on their shoulders.