The Rutland daily globe. [volume] (Rutland, Vt.) 1873-1877, 1875-07-10

poem, read on Wednesday by the authC
at the semi-centennial anniversary of th
class of 1926, Bowdoin college, in wbicl
MIR. Longfellow graduated.
M0RITURI sALUTAMUs.
ny HENRY W. LoNGFEtLow.
Temporal labuntur, tacltisquo senescimu
annis,
Et iueiunt freno non remorante dies.
OVID. Fastoruin, Lib. vi.
90 Cesar, we who are about TO die
salute you !" was the gladiators' cry
10 the arena standing face TO face
WIN death and with the Roman populace.
O,ye familiar scenes-ye groves of pine
Tnat once were mine and are no longe
milne
Thou river, widening through the meadow
green
To the vast sea, so near and yet unseen-
le halls, In whose secluslon and repose
PnantOmS or fame, like eXhalatiOns, rose
And vanished-we who are about to die
salute you; earth and air and sea and sky,
Ana the Imperial sun that scatters down
Ills sovereign splendors upon grove and town
Ye do not answer us We do not hear
we are forgotten ; and In your austere
And calm Indifference, we little care
whether we come or go, or whence or where
What passing generations fill these halls
what passing voices echo from these walls
lie heed not, we are only as the blast,
A moment heard and then forever past
Not so the teachers who in earlier days
Led our bewlldered feet through learning.
maze;
They answer us--alasIwhat have said?
what greetings come there from the volceless
What salutaton, welcome, or reply?
what pressure from the hands that llfeless
lie
They are no longer here they all are gone
INTO the land or shadowS-all save one.
Honor and reverence, and the good repute
Ihat follows faithful service as Its fruit,
he unto him, whom living we salute.
The great Italian Poet, when he made
MS dreadful journey to the realms OF shade,
Met there the old instructor OF his YOUTH
ana cried In tones or pity and of ruth
-. never from the memory OF my heart
Your dear, paternal image shall depart
VINO While ON earth, ere yet by death sur
Taught me how mortals are immortalized
How grateful am for that patient care
All my HE long my language shall declare"
To-day we make the poets words our own,
Ana utter them in plaintive under-tone
So , 10 me living only be they said.
But TO the other living called the dead
whose DEAR paternal Images appear
Not wrapped In gloom. but ROBBED In sunshine
here;
Whose simple lives. COMPLETE md without
flaw,
Were part and parcel OF great Natures law
VINO said not TO their Lord, as II afraid,
Here is thy talent In napkin laid"
But labored In their sphere, as those who live
Ia the delight that work alone can give,
ieace De 10 them ; eternal peace and rest,
Ana the fulfllment OF the great behest:
"fc have been faithful over few things,
over ten cities shall ye reign as kings"
And ye who fill the places we once llled,
Ana follow In the burrows that we TILED
M. hearts
We who are old, and are about to die,
salute you hall you take your hands In ours
And crown you with our welcome as with
flowers!
How beautiful is youth how bright 1t CLEANS
With lis illusions aspirations draamsf
Aladdin's Lamp, and Fortunatus' Purse,
That holds the treasures or the universe!
All possibilities are III It's hands,
No danger daunts IL, and no foe withStands
In Its sublime audacity OF faith,
BE thou removed !"it to the mountain saith,
And with ambitious feet, secure and proud,
Ascends the ladder leaning on the cloud
AS ancient Priam at the Scpan gate
Sat on the walls ofTroy In regal state
With the old men, too old and weak TO fight,
Chipping like grasshOpper5 In their delight
To see the embattled hosts, with spear and
shield,
or Troians and Achaians In the field
SO from the snowy submits OF our years
We see you In the plain. as each appears,
That towers above the other Which may be
Atreides, Menelaus, Odysseus,
Ajax the great, or bold ldomeneous ?"
Let him not boast who puts his armor on
AS he who puts 1t OF, the battle done.
study yourselves ; and most OF all note well
Wherein kind Nature meant you to excel,
Not every blossom ripens into fruit;
Minerva, the inventress OF the flute,
Flung 1t aside, when she her face surveyed
Distorted in fountain as she played;
III.
Was one TO make the braveSt hesitate.
Write on your doors the saying wise and old:
abe bold be bold ~ And everywhere be bold
Be not too bold !! Yet better the excess
Than the defect better the more than less
Better like Hector in the field to die,
Than like perfumed Paris turn and fly.
And now, my classmates We remaining few
That number not the half OF those we knew.
Ye, against whose familiar names not yet
The fatal asterisk OF death is set,
Ie salute The hOrologe OF Time
Strikes the half-century with solemn chime,
And summon us together once again,
The Joy OF meeting not unmixed with pain.
Where are the others? Voices from the deep
Caverns OF darkness answer me:."They sleep"
name no names; instinctlvely feel
Each at some well-remembered grave Will
And from the Inscription wipe the weeds and
For every heart best knoweth It's own loss.
l see the scattered graye-stones cleaning
white
Through the pale dusk, of the impending
Ger ali alike the impartial sunset throws
Its golden lilies mingled with the rose
We give 10 all a tender thought, auu pass
out OF the grave-yards with their tangled
Unto these scenes frequented by our feet
When we were young. and life was fresh and
sweet.
What shall say TO you What can say
Better than silence Is? When i survey
This throng OF faces turned 10 meet my own.
Friendly and fair, and yet TO mo unknown,
Transformed the very landscape seems 10 be
II is the same, yet not the same to me.
SO many memories crowd upon my BRAIN
| fan would steal away. with noiseless tread,
AS from q house where some one lieth dead.
can not go IL pause IL hesitate;
My feet reluctant linger at the gate
AS one who struggles In troubled dream
To speak and cannot, TO myself seem.
Vanish the dream Vanish the idle fears
Vanish the rolling mtsts OF nifty years
Whatever time or space may intervene,
Will not be a stranger IN this scene.
Here every doubt, all indecision ends;
Hail, my companions, comrades, classmates,
All me the nifty years since last we met
Seem TO me nifty follos bound ana SET
BY Time. the great Transcriber, on MS snelves
Wherein are written the histories OF our
selves.
What tragedies, what comedies, are there;
What JOY. and grief what rapture anu ue'
What Chronicles of triumph and defeat.
or struggle, and temptation, ana retreat
What records OF regrets ana uouo's' anu
What pages blotted bllstered by our tears
What lovely landscapes on the MARIN shine,
What sweet, angelic faces, what divine
And holy Images OF love ana trust.