The Middlebury register. [volume] (Middlebury, Vt.) 1850-1882, 1875-07-27
Enthusiasm.

In grand and lofty palace
Hangs painting by jerome.
Above scene of splendor floats
The flag that was unfurled
What time the eternal city laid
Her arms about the world,
And croYned each crest Of the seven hills
With shining fame and dome
It's the Roman coliseum,
In the mighty days OF Rome.
Overhead, the silken canopy,
And the soft italian glow
Falling through the tapping crimson
On the wond'rous scene below.
On the grandy crcling podium,
Ger the springing arches high
And, back, the crowded thousands,
Row on row toward the sky.
On the highest silk hung circle,
Where the deft hand Of Jerome
Limns the eager lovely faces
Of the naughty bellies Of Rome.
Upon the proud Patrician,
On the plebs that throng the stair,
On the silver bearded senators
And white armed vestnls fair
On tho corselet of the soldier
On carved wood and sculptured stone,
And, hung with purple panoply,
The Caesars lofty throne.
On the red sands of the arena
A gladiator stands,
His foot upon his wounded foe,
His red sword in his hand.
From thumbs reversed and cries of kill"
And angry curses hurled.
The appeal is to the Caesar,
The ruler of the world.
But what's life to Cesar2
In purple and gold-divine,
As ringed by worshipping tbrong he sips
The red Falernian wine ?
Again the shout-he turns to smile
At some light favorite's Jest
And the keen edge cuts the shrinking throat
The poor wretch is at rest.
In Cesar naughty, cold and proud.
Unmoved by rage or joys citation,
So high he cannot hear the crowd,
We see the old age of a nation
Personifed the sneering age,
The age of calm, Of cold fruition,
The bloodless age when but the sage
Sad-eyed sees closed country's mission
The era of indifference,
Self.satisfed and fulfilled glory;
nations dangerous eminence,
The GROWING chapter Of her story.
When with calm nerve and quiet breath
She wrapped her purple robes around her,
Nor saw the sign-"Rcfned to DEATH"
Grayed on the golden chains that bound her
Weak grows the arm that does not stir,
Weak grows the heart that nc'er beats faster.
Well wept earth's greatest oonqueror
For other worlds to master.
Ill fares the land that can grow old,
Before it yawns the darkling chasm
When age can touch the nations soul
And dim divine enthusiasm.
Youth and enthusiasm they
That move the world that keep it spinning,
That storm the heights, that bear away
All earths fair prizes worth the winning.
But It's C youth that ne'er grows old,
That younger grows with age, and boiier,
The enthusiasm that neer grows cold
Nor lets the spirit TEST or molder.
Aswith the man with the land,
Her knell sounds though she does not hear it
When pride folds hei white, jewelled hands
And stated age benumbs her spirit
Enthusiasm, real and true,
Means not wild look or thought or action,
It's not the spirit to undo,
To lead in useless feud and faction
1t is not reckless, til not rash,
1t says not die, or go as we CO.
Nor yields the axe, nor lays the LASH
Nor bows before the boundless eJ5.
1t does not mouth or rant or swear,
Or woo strange gods or court an ism,
Or grow long hair or, happy wear
The general airs Of idiotism,
Ii meier affects disjain for fate
In impious sneers, it is not cruel
And to the flames Of wrong and hate
1t gives no BREATH it adds no fuel
Bat It's the spirit, bright and fair,
That binds the brow with laurel splendor,
And wroatbes the bay leaves round the hair
OF nations poet, sage, defender.
Tis that that nerves the sturdy arm
That conquers air and earth and ocean,
Yet tender keeps the heart and warm
And bows the head in true devotion
1t links its hand with ardent youth,
Wins smiles from fortune blackly frowning,
Fights for the victories Of TRUTH
Itself with deathless spoils adjoining
OF them whose lives are in retreat,
In vain the rolling drum is beat,
The soul il one time THRILLED has vanished
1t wins the shining martyrs crown,
II wins the saint the holy ehrism,
1t casts the cruel tyrant dowa,
And fans the fame of patriotism.
And in the rightly tempered soul
Breeds strength and truth, corruption stcmming
Breeds Brutuses, like him Of old,
His eriing child to death condemning.
The black clouds slowly settle down,
The tempests r-of mutterings warn us
The inky blackness wraps US round,
The storm in fury bursts upon
The believing thunder rolls again,
While shrink the guilty souls in terror,
The leaping lightning darts its chain,
And cracks the massive walls Of error.
But meath the sod the sapper tolls,
Nor rests with night, nor rests with morning,
No cloud the suns fair rays despoils
No iow-voiced tempest mutters warning.
But like a snake the fuse creeps down
Then shakes the earth with sudden thunder,
From turret to foundation stone
The walls of wrong are rent asunder
And grand the soldiers spirit when
his soul leaps al the muskets rattle,
When mid the charging roar Of men
Around him bursts the booming battle
When dead men roll beneath his feet,
When rushing thousands yell behind hun
On IRE the foes bright blades to meet,
While blood and cannon stun and blind him
When justice fed AMI mercy dead,
And love forgot, and vanished pity,
tie climbs the shot-swept slope SO red
And gains the breach and wins the city.
But nobler far the spirit bright,
That nerves him on the far OF picket,
When round him falls the solemn night
Der moonlit space and gloomy theket.
When weird shapes menacing and dim
Seem in the darkness reckoning MEETING
Yet futter not the pulse of him,
The while his heart is calmly beating
Woman's enthusiasm seems
So dainty, delicate and airy:
And mid mans moods and motives CLEANS
As mid coarse mortals sports fairy.