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I. SO life is ending, and its visions pass | |
| Before the inward eye, | |
| Like soft dew falling on the tender grass, | |
| When all around is dry. | |
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| Through the dark night I see the ruby flush | 5 |
| Of childhood’s earliest day; | |
| Through war’s wild din, and battle’s torrent rush, | |
| I hear the children play. | |
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| Yet once again I live that time of might, | |
| When I, and one with me | 10 |
| Who bore my shield, were conquerors in the fight, | |
| And made the aliens flee. | |
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| From crag to crag we clambered, hand in hand, | |
| And leapt from rock to rock; | |
| Till from the height we looked on all the land, | 15 |
| And dared the battle’s shock. | |
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| I feel the faintness of that noontide heat, | |
| The thirst that fired the brain; | |
| I taste the golden stream that trickled sweet, | |
| And brought life back again: | 20 |
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| The fear of death is on me as of old, | |
| When Saul in sternness strove | |
| An iron mantle round his heart to fold, | |
| And crush a father’s love; | |
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| I stood as one condemned to shameful death, | 25 |
| And offered up my life, | |
| As Isaac bowed of old, with calmest breath, | |
| To meet the glittering knife: | |
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| When shrill and loud from warriors old and young | |
| There rose the awe-struck cry; | 30 |
| Their strong resolve through hill and forest rung, | |
| “This day shall no man die!” | |
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| So with my father many a month passed on, | |
| I smote the craven foe; | |
| And year by year the crown of victory won, | 35 |
| Requiting blow for blow: | |
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| And robes of scarlet from each plundered town, | |
| We brought for Israel’s maids; | |
| The ruby circlet, and the golden crown, | |
| Rich harvest of our raids. | 40 |
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| So grew my soul to manhood’s kingly noon, | |
| And all men sang my praise; | |
| Yet darker far than night without a moon, | |
| Was fame’s full daylight blaze. | |
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| I craved for one whose heart should beat as mine, | 45 |
| My hopes and thoughts to share; | |
| A soul to live with me the life divine, | |
| And half grief’s burden bear. | |
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| I sought for one to be my friend and guide, | |
| My glory and my joy; | 50 |
| When lo! there stood in brightness by my side, | |
| The minstrel shepherd-boy. | |
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II. YES, there he stood, and life’s deep-hidden fountains | |
| Welled from my soul in one abounding flood; | |
| The sun shone brighter on the hoary mountains, | 55 |
| A sweeter music murmured through the wood. | |
| |
| It was not for the flush of youthful beauty, | |
| The golden locks that flowed like sunlight down; | |
| Through eye’s wild flash there gleamed the star of duty, | |
| And on his brow Truth set her kingly crown. | 60 |
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| Strong arm was his to smite the tyrant stranger, | |
| Voice soft as maiden’s, stirring men to tears, | |
| A soul that knew no fear of death or danger, | |
| Wide thoughts of wisdom ripening with the years: | |
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| Forth from his lips there flowed the song of gladness, | 65 |
| His hand brought music from the soulless lyre; | |
| And lo! the spell chased all the clouds of madness, | |
| Wrath passed away as wax before the fire. | |
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| Of warriors old he sang, our father’s glory, | |
| The wonders of the nobler days of old; | 70 |
| And strong, deep music thrilled through all the story, | |
| Stirring all hearts to deeds of prowess bold. | |
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| He sang the marvels of the earth and heaven, | |
| The starry night, the cloud-built tent of God, | |
| The wild, dark storm on wings of tempest driven, | 75 |
| The snow-clad heights where never man has trod: | |
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| And new light streamed o’er mountain and o’er river, | |
| New voices mingled with the streamlet’s song; | |
| Men’s hearts rose up to meet the Eternal Giver, | |
| The slave found freedom, and the weak grew strong. | 80 |
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| And oh! my heart clave to him as he chanted | |
| The hymns that made the brain and spirit thrill; | |
| I found the prize for which my soul had panted, | |
| The friend and guide of thought, and heart, and will. | |
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| I track that love throughout life’s varied chances; | 85 |
| And still my heart is with him to the last, | |
| Though all our glory wane as his advances, | |
| His the bright future, ours the failing past. | |
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III. ’TIS well, ’tis well, I grudge him not the glory, | |
| His people’s love unpriced; | 90 |
| Long line of kings, great names renowned in story, | |
| The far-off, coming Christ. | |
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| I gave him, in that first bright hour of meeting, | |
| My robe, and sword, and shield; | |
| And ofttimes since in every secret greeting, | 95 |
| In forest or in field, | |
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| That sacrifice of self on true love’s altar, | |
| I, of free choice, renewed; | |
| Nor shall my spirit fail or purpose falter, | |
| With woman’s varying mood. | 100 |
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| I trust he loves me still, but love’s requiting,… | |
| What need for that to bless? | |
| Though he should stand a foe against me fighting, | |
| I should not love him less; | |
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| Though from his hand should dart the spear to slay me, | 105 |
| I could not him deny; | |
| No other love have I whereon to stay me, | |
| And when that fails I die: | |
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| I dream that he will give a little weeping | |
| Above my fameless grave; | 110 |
| I trust my orphaned child to his true keeping | |
| From shame and death to save: | |
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| So, though my lineage from the earth shall perish, | |
| Yet faithful to the end, | |
| He still, through kingly state and strife, may cherish | 115 |
| The memory of his friend. * * * * * | |
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