The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1877-07-07


OF dreams which pass like barks upon the river
And make each vision Beauty's instrument;
That from its own love Loves delight can TELL
And from its own grief guess the shrouded Sorrow ;
From its own joyousness of Joy can sing;
That can predict SO well
From its own dawn the lustre OF tomorrow,
The whole flight from the futter Of the wing.
And his the gift which sees
revelation and tr0pic sign
In the lone passon-fOwer, and can discover
The likeness of the far antipOdes,
Though but leafis stranded from the brine;
or sovran Art that all the becks OF life
Allure it not until the work be wrought.
Nay, though the shout and smoke of combat rose,
He through the changeful strife,
Eternal loneliness more closely sought
And Beauty's changeless law and sure repose.
Was it not well that one
One, If no more,-sh0uld mediate aoof,
Though not for naaght the times INES heroic quarrel
He little knew to join the web and wool
Whereof slow Progress weaves her rich apparel
But toward the past half-longDg turned his bead.
His deft hand dallied with its common share
OF human toll. nor sought new loads to lift,
But held itself, instead,
All cOnsecrate to uses that make fair
By right divine of his mysterious gift.
How should the world discern
The artists SELF save through the fine creation
OF his rare moment? How. but from his song,
The unfettered spirit of the minstrel learn?
Yet on this one the stars had set the station
Which to the chief romancer should belong:
Child OF the Beautiful! whose regnant brow
She made her canopy, and from his eyes
Who saw him, marvelled how
The soul of that imprisoned ray could lie N
So calm beyond, -unspoken all its dream.
What sibyl to him bore
The secret oracles that move and haunt?
At nights dread noon he scanned the enchanted
Ay. and himself the warlock's mantel wore,
Nor to the thronging phantoms said, Avaunt,
Puf od hia rndo and od ham, rioo o,d
Till thus he drew the lineaments Of men
Who fought the old colonial battles three,
Who with the lustihood of Nature warred
And made her docle,-the,
Wrestled with Terror and with Tyranny,
Twin wardens OF the scaffold and the sword.
He drew his native land,
The few and rude plantations OF her past,
Fringed by the beaches of her sounding shores:
Her children, as he drew them, there they stand;
There, too, her Present, withlsn outline cast
Still from the shape those other centuries wore.
Betime the orchards ami the clover-felds
Changed into woods 0'ershadowiDg host
That moves along the Massachusetts Path;
The sword OF Standish shields
The Plymouth band, and where the lewd ones boast
Stern Endicott p0urs out his g0dly wrath.
Within the Province House
The ancient governors hold their broidered state
Still CLEAN the lights, the shadows come and 60;
Here once again the powdered guests carouse,
The masquerade lasts on: the night is late.
Thrice waves the mist-invoking wand and To-
What troubled sights! What summit bald and steep
Where stands a ladder 'gainst the accursed tree!
What dark professions thither slowly cimbi
Anon, what lost ones keep
Their midnight tryst with forms that evil be,
Around the witch fire in the forest grim!
Clearly the master'splan
Revealed his people, even as they were;
The prayerful elder and the winsome maid,
The Grant rOysterer, the Puritan,
Dark Pyncheon. mournful Hester-all are there.
But none save he in our own time so laid
His summons on mans spirit; none but he..
q oh fvuara olaor ole daA
Thus on his canvas fixed the human soul,
The thoughts of mystery,
In deep hearts by tins mortal guise enshrouded,
Wild hearts that like the church bell ring and
toll.
Two natures I'm him stroye
Like day with night-his sunshine and his gloom.
To him the stern forefathers' creed descended
The weight OF some memorable Jove,.
PrejudgiDg from the cradle to the tomb;
But therewithal the lightsome laughter blended
OF that Arcadian sweetness undismayed
Which finds in love its law, and graces still
The rood, the penitential symbol worn,
Which sees, beyond the shade,
The Naiad nymph OF every ripping rill
, And hears quick Fancy wind her wilful horn.
What If he brooded long
On Time and Fate,-the ominous procession
OF years that with Mans retributions frown,-
The destnies which round his footsteps throng, -
Justice, that needs not Mercy's intercession,C
Deaf Chance and blind, that, like the mountain slide
Puts out Youths heart of fire, and all is dark?
What though the blemish which, in aught of earth,
The makers hand defed,
Was plain to him,-the one evasive mark
Wherewith Death stamps for his own at
birth?
An none the less we know
He felt the imperceptible fine thrill
With which the waves of being papitate,
Whether in ecstasy of joy or woe,
And saw the strong divinity OF Will
Bringing to halt the stolid tramp of Fate;
Nor from his work was ever absent quite
Inc presence which, 0'ercaSt it as we NAV,
Things far beyond our reason can suggest:
There was drifting light
In Donatello's celia itful ray
OF sunshine came to hapless Cliford's breast.
Into such blossom brake
Our northern hedge, that neither mortal sadness
Nor the drear thought of lives that strive and fail
Nor any hues Its sombre leaves might take
From clouded skies could overcome its gadness
Or in the blessing of its shade prevail.
Fresh sprays it yielded them of Merry Mount
Pure flowers her promise to her lover gave;
Beside it, from fount
Where Pearl and Pansie FLASHED their innocent
brook ran on and kissed Zenoba's grave.
Silent and dark the spell
Laid on New England by the frozen North;
Long. long the months-and yet the Winter ends.
The snow-wraiths vanish, and rejoicing well
The dandelions from the grass leap forth
And Spring through budding birch and willow
Her wind Of Paradise. And there are left
foets TO sing OF all, and welcome still
The robins voice, the humble-bee's wise drone;
Nor are we yet bereft
OF one whose sagas ever at his will
Can answer back the ocean, tone for tone.
But he whose quickened eve
Saw through New England's life her inmost spirft-
Her heart and all the stays on which it leantH
Returns not, since he laid the pencil by
Whose mystic touch none other shall inherit!
What though its work unfinished lies? Halt. bent
The rainbow's arch fades out in upper air;
The shining cataract halfway down the height
Breaks into mist; the haunting strain, that fell
On listeners unaware,
Ends incomplete, but through the starry night
The ear still waits for what it did not tell.