Louise Imogen Guiney

“ Out from the prison at twilight,
With stealthy, terrible swiftness,
Darted one of the branded, life beating in every vein;
Freedom stirring his pulses,
Gladness and fear and longing
Surging thro’ brain and body with precious unwonted pain.
Out from the damp, dark cell,
The shackles, the sorrowful silence,
Out from the ring of faces and the jarring of stern commands,
Forth to the scent of the meadows,
The glisten of garrulous brooklets,
[95] And the dim, kindly evening he blessed with his weary hands. ”

“ By the gates of the City of Rest,
The City whose exquisite towers
I see thro’ the sunny long hours
If but from my window I lean;
Yea, dearest! thy threshold of stone,
Thine ivy-grown door and my own
Have naught save the river between.
Thine on that heavenly height
Are beauty, and warmth, and delight;
And long as our parting shall be,
Live there in thy summer! nor know
How near lie the frost and the snow
On hearts that are breaking for thee. ”

“ Now this was the end of the hate and the striving and singing.
But the Italian thro’ Florence, his city familiar,
Fared happily ever, none knowing the crime and the passion,
Winning honor and guerdon in peaceful and prosperous decades,
Supreme over all, and rejoiced with the cheers and the clanging.
Carissima! what? and you wonder the world did not loathe him? ”

“ This man, the law-giver, Charondas the Greek;
And loud the Eubœans called to him: “Speak,
We listen and learn, O sage!”
“In peace shall ye come where the people be,”
Spake the lofty figure with flashing eyes:
“But whoso comes armed to the public hall
Shall suffer his death before us all.”
And the hearers believed him wise.
The years sped quick and the years dragged slow;
[63] In council oft was the throng arrayed,
But never the statued chamber saw
The gleam of a weapon; for loving the law,
The Greeks from their hearts obeyed.
War’s challenge knocked at the city gates ”

“ Veilèd young Moors on divans, singing and sighing at dusk.
Never in opiate dreams have I o’ertaken you, sweet;
Never with henna-tipped hands; never with silken-shod feet;
Still the love-charm of the East must over and over be told:
By-and-by havoc with hearts!... Ah, slowly, my seven-year-old! ”

“ With the old quick smile, and the toss of the head:
“Franz! thou art the first to follow!” he said.
[90]
AT GETTYSBURG.
Bells of victory are dumb;
Trailing sword and muffled drum
On we come,
Downcast eyes and broken tread,
Weary arms, and burdenèd
With our dead.
Lives were proffered: reck not his;
For dear Freedom’s ransom is
Sacrifice.
Proud our love is, nor at last
With a sorrow that is past
[91] Overcast. ”

“ A fountain sparkling in the sun,
Reflecting heavenly shapes by night,—
[13] Her moods thro’ ordered beauty run.
Light be the storm that she must know,
And branches greener after snow
For hope to build upon ”

“ Vagrant dark tresses above splendid mysterious eyes;
Mellowest fires that glow under the calm of her face,
Girl of all girls in the world for mould and for color and grace.
Such are the opal-like maids that flash in the groves to and fro,
[61] Dancers Arabian; such, languorous ages ago,
Ptolemy’s daughter ”

“ Thy lute, gentle lover,
To her thou adorest;
Ye troubadours! pæans
[58] For princes of Guelph:
But Heaven’s own harpers
Breathe not in their music
The song that his happy heart
Sings to itself;
The changeless, soft song that it
Sings to itself!
FOOTNOTE:
[C] For this trifle, obligations are due to Maestro Mozart. A sunny little opening Andante of his, from the Second Sonata in A major, suggested immediately and quite irresistibly the words here appended, which follow its rhythm throughout. ”

“ And yet for hate, thro’ lack of knowing,
Austerely misconstrue your own.
“No closer wave and wave at sea
Than he and you for grace should be;
I would endure the chains of bondage
That you might share this truth with me!
“A leaf’s light strength should break the wind,
Ere my desire, your wilful mind ”

“ To this unhallowed world, ah! let them not return,
To this dark world where grief and sin and anguish lower;
The winds might wound and break, the sun might parch and burn
[55] Young child and tender flower.
Thou sleepest, O Elise! thy years were brief and bright;
The burden and the heat are spared thy noonday hour;
For dewy morn has flown, and on its pinions light,
Young child and tender flower.
FOOTNOTE:
[B] The author’s title runs: “Sur la Fille de mon Ami, enterrée devant moi hier au Cimetière de Passy: 16 Juin, 1832.” ”

“ Jacob Sheafe, an old Boston worthy, laid away in 1658, in a quiet northerly corner of King’s Chapel Burying-Ground.
[73]
THE SEA-GULL.
Over the ships that are anchored,
Over the fleets that part,
Over the cities dark by the shore,
High as a dream thou art!
Beautiful is thy coming,
Light is thy wing as it goes ”

“ Pierced thro’ and thro’.
His musket, smoking yet,
Unhanded, lay beside;
Three times three thousand deaths
[20] That Prussian died.
And he, my brother, Léon,
Lies, too, upon the plain:
O teach no more Christ’s mercy,
Thy sons, Lorraine!
[This incident actually befell a private in a Massachusetts volunteer regiment, belonging to the Fifth Corps, at the battle of Malvern Hill.] ”

“ That right is right, thro’ flower and snow,
Why then, give still the wonted cry:—
“Here’s to the proud, forgotten names,
Here’s to the Stuart, Charles and James!
Ah me!
Full few that live so long as we
[103] Fan older love to steadier flames. ”

“ Who became the finer Stoic
Stabbing trouble thro’,
Thrilled to hear of things heroic
[41] Oftener, Lo or Lu?
Earliest, blithest! then and ever
Mirror of my heart!
Grow we old and wise and clever
Now, so far apart ”