Chapter 4
It is time to be old, To take in sail:-- The god of bounds, Who sets to seas a shore, Came to me in his fatal rounds, And said: 'No more! No farther spread Thy broad ambitious branches, and thy root. Fancy departs: no more invent, Contract thy firmament To compass of a tent. There's not enough for this and that, Make thy option which of two; Economize the failing river, Not the less revere the Giver, Leave the many and hold the few. Timely wise accept the terms, Soften the fall with wary foot; A little while Still plan and smile, And, fault of novel germs, Mature the unfallen fruit. Curse, if thou wilt, thy sires, Bad husbands of their fires, Who, when they gave thee breath, Failed to bequeath The needful sinew stark as once, The Baresark marrow to thy bones, But left a legacy of ebbing veins, Inconstant heat and nerveless reins,-- Amid the Muses, left thee deaf and dumb, Amid the gladiators, halt and numb.' As the bird trims her to the gale, I trim myself to the storm of time, I man the rudder, reef the sail, Obey the voice at eve obeyed at prime: 'Lowly faithful, banish fear, Right onward drive unarmed; The port, well worth the cruise, is near, And every wave is charmed.'
THE PAST.
The debt is paid, The verdict said, The Furies laid, The plague is stayed, All fortunes made; Turn the key and bolt the door, Sweet is death forevermore. Nor haughty hope, nor swart chagrin, Nor murdering hate, can enter in. All is now secure and fast; Not the gods can shake the Past; Flies to the adamantine door Bolted down forevermore.
None can re-enter there, No thief so politic, No Satan with a royal trick Steal in by window, chink, or hole, To bind or unbind, add what lacked, Insert a leaf, or forge a name, New-face or finish what is packed, Alter or mend eternal Fact.
THE LAST FAREWELL.
LINES WRITTEN BY THE AUTHOR'S BROTHER, EDWARD BLISS EMERSON, WHILST SAILING OUT OF BOSTON HARBOUR, BOUND FOR THE ISLAND OF PORTO RICO, IN 1832.
Farewell, ye lofty spires That cheered the holy light! Farewell, domestic fires That broke the gloom of night! Too soon those spires are lost, Too fast we leave the bay, Too soon by ocean tost From hearth and home away, Far away, far away.
Farewell the busy town, The wealthy and the wise, Kind smile and honest frown From bright, familiar eyes. All these are fading now; Our brig hastes on her way, Her unremembering prow Is leaping o'er the sea, Far away, far away.
Farewell, my mother fond, Too kind, too good to me; Nor pearl nor diamond Would pay my debt to thee. But even thy kiss denies Upon my cheek to stay; The winged vessel flies, And billows round her play, Far away, far away.
Farewell, my brothers true, My betters, yet my peers; How desert without you My few and evil years! But though aye one in heart, Together sad or gay, Rude ocean doth us part; We separate to-day, Far away, far away.
Farewell I breathe again To dim New England's shore; My heart shall beat not when I pant for thee no more. In yon green palmy isle, Beneath the tropic ray, I murmur never while For thee and thine I pray; Far away, far away.
IN MEMORIAM.
E. B. E.
I mourn upon this battle-field, But not for those who perished here. Behold the river-bank Whither the angry farmers came, In sloven dress and broken rank, Nor thought of fame. Their deed of blood All mankind praise; Even the serene Reason says, It was well done. The wise and simple have one glance To greet yon stern head-stone, Which more of pride than pity gave To mark the Briton's friendless grave. Yet it is a stately tomb; The grand return Of eve and morn, The year's fresh bloom, The silver cloud, Might grace the dust that is most proud.
Yet not of these I muse In this ancestral place, But of a kindred face That never joy or hope shall here diffuse.
Ah, brother of the brief but blazing star! What hast thou to do with these Haunting this bank's historic trees? Thou born for noblest life, For action's field, for victor's car, Thou living champion of the right? To these their penalty belonged: I grudge not these their bed of death, But thine to thee, who never wronged The poorest that drew breath.
All inborn power that could Consist with homage to the good Flamed from his martial eye; He who seemed a soldier born, He should have the helmet worn, All friends to fend, all foes defy, Fronting foes of God and man, Frowning down the evil-doer, Battling for the weak and poor. His from youth the leader's look Gave the law which others took, And never poor beseeching glance Shamed that sculptured countenance.
There is no record left on earth, Save in tablets of the heart, Of the rich inherent worth, Of the grace that on him shone, Of eloquent lips, of joyful wit; He could not frame a word unfit, An act unworthy to be done; Honour prompted every glance, Honour came and sat beside him, In lowly cot or painful road, And evermore the cruel god Cried, "Onward!" and the palm-crown showed. Born for success he seemed, With grace to win, with heart to hold, With shining gifts that took all eyes, With budding power in college-halls, As pledged in coming days to forge Weapons to guard the State, or scourge Tyrants despite their guards or walls. On his young promise Beauty smiled, Drew his free homage unbeguiled, And prosperous Age held out his hand, And richly his large future planned, And troops of friends enjoyed the tide,-- All, all was given, and only health denied.
I see him with superior smile Hunted by Sorrow's grisly train In lands remote, in toil and pain, With angel patience labour on, With the high port he wore erewhile, When, foremost of the youthful band, The prizes in all lists he won; Nor bate one jot of heart or hope, And, least of all, the loyal tie Which holds to home 'neath every sky, The joy and pride the pilgrim feels In hearts which round the hearth at home Keep pulse for pulse with those who roam.
What generous beliefs console The brave whom Fate denies the goal! If others reach it, is content; To Heaven's high will his will is bent. Firm on his heart relied, What lot soe'er betide, Work of his hand He nor repents nor grieves, Pleads for itself the fact, As unrepenting Nature leaves Her every act.
Fell the bolt on the branching oak; The rainbow of his hope was broke; No craven cry, no secret tear,-- He told no pang, he knew no fear; Its peace sublime his aspect kept, His purpose woke, his features slept; And yet between the spasms of pain His genius beamed with joy again.
O'er thy rich dust the endless smile Of Nature in thy Spanish isle Hints never loss or cruel break And sacrifice for love's dear sake, Nor mourn the unalterable Days That Genius goes and Folly stays. What matters how, or from what ground, The freed soul its Creator found? Alike thy memory embalms That orange-grove, that isle of palms, And these loved banks, whose oak-boughs bold Root in the blood of heroes old.
ELEMENTS.
EXPERIENCE.
The lords of life, the lords of life,-- I saw them pass, In their own guise, Like and unlike, Portly and grim,-- Use and Surprise, Surface and Dream, Succession swift and spectral Wrong, Temperament without a tongue, And the inventor of the game Omnipresent without name;-- Some to see, some to be guessed, They march from east to west: Little man, least of all, Among the legs of his guardians tall, Walked about with puzzled look. Him by the hand dear Nature took, Dearest Nature, strong and kind, Whispered, 'Darling, never mind! To-morrow they will wear another face, The founder thou; these are thy race!'
COMPENSATION.
II.
The wings of Time are black and white, Pied with morning and with night. Mountain tall and ocean deep Trembling balance duly keep. In changing moon and tidal wave Glows the feud of Want and Have. Gauge of more and less through space, Electric star or pencil plays, The lonely Earth amid the balls That hurry through the eternal halls, A makeweight flying to the void, Supplemental asteroid, Or compensatory spark, Shoots across the neutral Dark.
III.
Man's the elm, and Wealth the vine; Staunch and strong the tendrils twine: Though the frail ringlets thee deceive, None from its stock that vine can reave. Fear not, then, thou child infirm, There's no god dare wrong a worm; Laurel crowns cleave to deserts, And power to him who power exerts. Hast not thy share? On winged feet, Lo! it rushes thee to meet; And all that Nature made thy own, Floating in air or pent in stone, Will rive the hills and swim the sea, And, like thy shadow, follow thee.
POLITICS.
Gold and iron are good To buy iron and gold; All earth's fleece and food For their like are sold. Hinted Merlin wise, Proved Napoleon great, Nor kind nor coinage buys Aught above its rate. Fear, Craft, and Avarice Cannot rear a State. Out of dust to build What is more than dust,-- Walls Amphion piled Phoebus stablish must. When the Muses nine When the Virtues meet, Find to their design An Atlantic seat, By green orchard boughs Fended from the heat, Where the statesman ploughs Furrow for the wheat,-- When the Church is social worth, When the state-house is the hearth, Then the perfect State is come, The republican at home.
HEROISM.
Ruby wine is drunk by knaves, Sugar spends to fatten slaves, Rose and vine-leaf deck buffoons; Thunder-clouds are Jove's festoons, Drooping oft in wreaths of dread, Lightning-knotted round his head; The hero is not fed on sweets, Daily his own heart he eats; Chambers of the great are jails, And head-winds right for royal sails.
CHARACTER.
The sun set, but set not his hope: Stars rose; his faith was earlier up: Fixed on the enormous galaxy, Deeper and older seemed his eye; And matched his sufferance sublime The taciturnity of time. He spoke, and words more soft than rain Brought the Age of Gold again: His action won such reverence sweet As hid all measure of the feat.
CULTURE.
Can rules or tutors educate The semigod whom we await? He must be musical, Tremulous, impressional, Alive to gentle influence Of landscape and of sky, And tender to the spirit-touch Of man's or maiden's eye: But, to his native centre fast, Shall into Future fuse the Past, And the world's flowing fates in his own mould recast.
FRIENDSHIP.
A ruddy drop of manly blood The surging sea outweighs, The world uncertain comes and goes, The lover rooted stays. I fancied he was fled,-- And, after many a year, Glowed unexhausted kindliness, Like daily sunrise there. My careful heart was free again, O friend, my bosom said, Through thee alone the sky is arched, Through thee the rose is red; All things through thee take nobler form, And look beyond the earth, The mill-round of our fate appears A sun-path in thy worth. Me too thy nobleness has taught To master my despair; The fountains of my hidden life Are through thy friendship fair.
BEAUTY.
Was never form and never face So sweet to SEYD as only grace Which did not slumber like a stone, But hovered gleaming and was gone. Beauty chased he everywhere, In flame, in storm, in clouds of air. He smote the lake to feed his eye With the beryl beam of the broken wave; He flung in pebbles well to hear The moment's music which they gave. Oft pealed for him a lofty tone From nodding pole and belting zone. He heard a voice none else could hear From centred and from errant sphere. The quaking earth did quake in rhyme, Seas ebbed and flowed in epic chime. In dens of passion, and pits of woe, He saw strong Eros struggling through, To sun the dark and solve the curse, And beam to the bounds of the universe. While thus to love he gave his days In loyal worship, scorning praise, How spread their lures for him in vain Thieving Ambition and paltering Gain! He thought it happier to be dead, To die for Beauty, than live for bread.
MANNERS.
Grace, Beauty, and Caprice Build this golden portal; Graceful women, chosen men, Dazzle every mortal. Their sweet and lofty countenance His enchanted food; He need not go to them, their forms Beset his solitude. He looketh seldom in their face, His eyes explore the ground,-- The green grass is a looking-glass Whereon their traits are found. Little and less he says to them, So dances his heart in his breast; Their tranquil mien bereaveth him Of wit, of words, of rest. Too weak to win, too fond to shun The tyrants of his doom, The much deceived Endymion Slips behind a tomb.
ART.
Give to barrows, trays, and pans Grace and glimmer of romance; Bring the moonlight into noon Hid in gleaming piles of stone; On the city's paved street Plant gardens lined with lilacs sweet; Let spouting fountains cool the air, Singing in the sun-baked square; Let statue, picture, park, and hall, Ballad, flag, and festival, The past restore, the day adorn, And make to-morrow a new morn. So shall the drudge in dusty frock Spy behind the city clock Retinues of airy kings, Skirts of angels, starry wings, His fathers shining in bright fables, His children fed at heavenly tables. 'T is the privilege of Art Thus to play its cheerful part, Man on earth to acclimate, And bend the exile to his fate, And, moulded of one element With the days and firmament, Teach him on these as stairs to climb, And live on even terms with Time; Whilst upper life the slender rill Of human sense doth overfill.
SPIRITUAL LAWS.
The living Heaven thy prayers respect, House at once and architect, Quarrying man's rejected hours, Builds therewith eternal towers; Sole and self-commanded works, Fears not undermining days, Grows by decays, And, by the famous might that lurks In reaction and recoil, Makes flame to freeze and ice to boil; Forging, through swart arms of Offence, The silver seat of Innocence.
UNITY.
Space is ample, east and west, But two cannot go abreast, Cannot travel in it two: Yonder masterful cuckoo Crowds every egg out of the nest, Quick or dead, except its own; A spell is laid on sod and stone, Night and day were tampered with, Every quality and pith Surcharged and sultry with a power That works its will on age and hour.
WORSHIP.
This is he, who, felled by foes, Sprung harmless up, refreshed by blows: He to captivity was sold, But him no prison-bars would hold: Though they sealed him in a rock, Mountain chains he can unlock: Thrown to lions for their meat, The crouching lion kissed his feet: Bound to the stake, no flames appalled, But arched o'er him an honouring vault. This is he men miscall Fate, Threading dark ways, arriving late, But ever coming in time to crown The truth, and hurl wrong-doers down. He is the oldest, and best known, More near than aught thou call'st thy own, Yet, greeted in another's eyes, Disconcerts with glad surprise. This is Jove, who, deaf to prayers, Floods with blessings unawares. Draw, if thou canst, the mystic line Severing rightly his from thine, Which is human, which divine.
QUATRAINS.
S. H.
With beams December planets dart His cold eye truth and conduct scanned, July was in his sunny heart, October in his liberal hand.
A. H.
High was her heart, and yet was well inclined, Her manners made of bounty well refined; Far capitals, and marble courts, her eye still seemed to see, Minstrels, and kings, and high-born dames, and of the best that be.
"SUUM CUIQUE."
Wilt thou seal up the avenues of ill? Pay every debt, as if God wrote the bill.
HUSH!
Every thought is public, Every nook is wide; Thy gossips spread each whisper, And the gods from side to side.
ORATOR.
He who has no hands Perforce must use his tongue; Foxes are so cunning Because they are not strong.
ARTIST.
Quit the hut, frequent the palace, Reck not what the people say; For still, where'er the trees grow biggest, Huntsmen find the easiest way.
POET.
Ever the Poet _from_ the land Steers his bark, and trims his sail; Right out to sea his courses stand, New worlds to find in pinnace frail.
POET.
To clothe the fiery thought In simple words succeeds, For still the craft of genius is To mask a king in weeds.
BOTANIST.
Go thou to thy learned task, I stay with the flowers of spring: Do thou of the ages ask What me the flowers will bring.
GARDENER.
True Bramin, in the morning meadows wet, Expound the Vedas of the violet, Or, hid in vines, peeping through many a loop, See the plum redden, and the beurre stoop.
FORESTER.
He took the colour of his vest From rabbit's coat or grouse's breast; For, as the wood-kinds lurk and hide, So walks the woodman, unespied.
NORTHMAN.
The gale that wrecked you on the sand, It helped my rowers to row; The storm is my best galley hand, And drives me where I go.
FROM ALCUIN.
The sea is the road of the bold, Frontier of the wheat-sown plains, The pit wherein the streams are rolled, And fountain of the rains.
EXCELSIOR.
Over his head were the maple buds, And over the tree was the moon, And over the moon were the starry studs, That drop from the angel's shoon.
BORROWING. FROM THE FRENCH.
Some of your hurts you have cured, And the sharpest you still have survived, But what torments of grief you endured From evils which never arrived!
NATURE.
Boon Nature yields each day a brag which we now first behold, And trains us on to slight the new, as if it were the old: But blest is he, who, playing deep, yet haply asks not why, Too busied with the crowded hour to fear to live or die.
FATE.
Her planted eye to-day controls, Is in the morrow most at home, And sternly calls to being souls That curse her when they come.
HOROSCOPE.
Ere he was born, the stars of fate Plotted to make him rich and great: When from the womb the babe was loosed, The gate of gifts behind him closed.
POWER.
Cast the bantling on the rocks, Suckle him with the she-wolf's teat, Wintered with the hawk and fox, Power and speed be hands and feet.
CLIMACTERIC.
I am not wiser for my age, Nor skilful by my grief; Life loiters at the book's first page,-- Ah! could we turn the leaf.
HERI, CRAS, HODIE.
Shines the last age, the next with hope is seen, To-day slinks poorly off unmarked between: Future or Past no richer secret folds, O friendless Present! than thy bosom holds.
MEMORY.
Night-dreams trace on Memory's wall Shadows of the thoughts of day, And thy fortunes, as they fall, The bias of the will betray.
LOVE.
Love on his errand bound to go Can swim the flood, and wade through snow, Where way is none, 'twill creep and wind And eat through Alps its home to find.
SACRIFICE.
Though love repine, and reason chafe, There came a voice without reply,-- ''Tis man's perdition to be safe, When for the truth he ought to die.'
PERICLES.
Well and wisely said the Greek, Be thou faithful, but not fond; To the altar's foot thy fellow seek, The Furies wait beyond.
CASELLA.
Test of the poet is knowledge of love, For Eros is older than Saturn or Jove; Never was poet, of late or of yore, Who was not tremulous with love-lore.
SHAKSPEARE.
I see all human wits Are measured but a few, Unmeasured still my Shakspeare sits, Lone as the blessed Jew.
HAFIZ.
Her passions the shy violet From Hafiz never hides; Love-longings of the raptured bird The bird to him confides.
NATURE IN LEASTS.
As sings the pine-tree in the wind, So sings in the wind a sprig of the pine; Her strength and soul has laughing France Shed in each drop of wine.
[GREEK TITLE].
'A new commandment,' said the smiling Muse, 'I give my darling son, Thou shalt not preach;'-- Luther, Fox, Behmen, Swedenborg, grew pale, And, on the instant, rosier clouds upbore Hafiz and Shakspeare with their shining choirs.
TRANSLATIONS.
SONNET OF MICHEL ANGELO BUONAROTI.
Never did sculptor's dream unfold A form which marble doth not hold In its white block; yet it therein shall find Only the hand secure and bold Which still obeys the mind. So hide in thee, thou heavenly dame, The ill I shun, the good I claim; I, alas! not well alive, Miss the aim whereto I strive.
Not love, nor beauty's pride, Not fortune, nor thy coldness, can I chide, If, whilst within thy heart abide Both death and pity, my unequal skill Fails of the life, but draws the death and ill.
THE EXILE. FROM THE PERSIAN OF KERMANI.
In Farsistan the violet spreads Its leaves to the rival sky; I ask how far is the Tigris flood, And the vine that grows thereby?
Except the amber morning wind, Not one salutes me here; There is no lover in all Bagdat To offer the exile cheer.
I know that thou, O morning wind! O'er Kernan's meadow blowest, And thou, heart-warming nightingale! My father's orchard knowest.
The merchant hath stuffs of price, And gems from the sea-washed strand, And princes offer me grace To stay in the Syrian land;
But what is gold _for_, but for gifts? And dark, without love, is the day; And all that I see in Bagdat Is the Tigris to float me away.
FROM HAFIZ.
I said to heaven that glowed above, O hide yon sun-filled zone, Hide all the stars you boast; For, in the world of love And estimation true, The heaped-up harvest of the moon Is worth one barley-corn at most, The Pleiads' sheaf but two.
* * * * *
If my darling should depart, And search the skies for prouder friends, God forbid my angry heart In other love should seek amends.
When the blue horizon's hoop Me a little pinches here, Instant to my grave I stoop, And go to find thee in the sphere.
EPITAPH.
Bethink, poor heart, what bitter kind of jest Mad Destiny this tender stripling played; For a warm breast of maiden to his breast, She laid a slab of marble on his head.
They say, through patience, chalk Becomes a ruby stone; Ah, yes! but by the true heart's blood The chalk is crimson grown.
FRIENDSHIP.
Thou foolish Hafiz! Say, do churls Know the worth of Oman's pearls? Give the gem which dims the moon To the noblest, or to none.
* * * * *
Dearest, where thy shadow falls, Beauty sits, and Music calls; Where thy form and favour come, All good creatures have their home.
* * * * *
On prince or bride no diamond stone Half so gracious ever shone, As the light of enterprise Beaming from a young man's eyes.
FROM OMAR CHIAM.
Each spot where tulips prank their state Has drunk the life-blood of the great; The violets yon field which stain Are moles of beauties time hath slain.
* * * * *
He who has a thousand friends has not a friend to spare, And he who has one enemy will meet him everywhere.
* * * * *
On two days it steads not to run from thy grave, The appointed, and the unappointed day; On the first, neither balm nor physician can save, Nor thee, on the second, the Universe slay.
FROM IBN JEMIN.
Two things thou shalt not long for, if thou love a mind serene;-- A woman to thy wife, though she were a crowned queen; And the second, borrowed money,--though the smiling lender say, That he will not demand the debt until the Judgment Day.
THE FLUTE. FROM HILALI.
Hark what, now loud, now low, the pining flute complains, Without tongue, yellow-cheeked, full of winds that wail and sigh; Saying, Sweetheart! the old mystery remains,-- If I am I; thou, thou; or thou art I?
TO THE SHAH. FROM HAFIZ.
Thy foes to hunt, thy enviers to strike down, Poises Arcturus aloft morning and evening his spear.
TO THE SHAH. FROM ENWERI.
Not in their houses stand the stars, But o'er the pinnacles of thine!
TO THE SHAH. FROM ENWERI.
From thy worth and weight the stars gravitate, And the equipoise of heaven is thy house's equipoise.
SONG OF SEID NIMETOLLAH OF KUHISTAN.
[Among the religious customs of the dervishes is an astronomical dance, in which the dervish imitates the movements of the heavenly bodies, by spinning on his own axis, whilst at the same time he revolves round the Sheikh in the centre, representing the sun; and, as he spins, he sings the Song of Seid Nimetollah of Kuhistan.]
Spin the ball! I reel, I burn, Nor head from foot can I discern, Nor my heart from love of mine, Nor the wine-cup from the wine. All my doing, all my leaving, Reaches not to my perceiving; Lost in whirling spheres I rove, And know only that I love.