Be patient, O, be patient! put your ear against the earth;
Listen there how noiselessly the germ of the seed has birth;
How noiselessly and gently it upheaves its little way,
Till it parts the scarcely broken ground, and the blade stands up in the day!
Be patient, O, be patient! the germs of mighty thought
Must have their silent undergrowth, must under ground be wrought;
But as sure as ever there's a Power that makes the grass appear,
Our land shall be green with LIBERTY, the blade-time shall be here.
Be patient, O, be patient! go and watch the wheat-ears grow!
So imperceptibly, that ye can mark nor change nor throe;
Day after day, day after day, till the ear is fully grown;
And then, again, day after day, till the ripened field is brown.
Be patient, O, be patient! though yet our hopes are green,
The harvest-fields of Freedom shall be crowned with the sunny
Be ripening! be ripening! mature your silent way,
Till the whole broad land is tongued with fire, on Freedom's harvest-day!
XLVIII. — JAFFAR: AN EASTERN TRADITION.
JAFFAR', the Barmekide, the good vizier,
The poor man's hope, the friend without a peer,
Jaffar was dead, slain by a doom unjust!
And guilty Ha'roun, sullen with mistrust
Of what the good and e'en the bad might say,
Ordained that no man living, from that day,
Should dare to speak his name, on pain of death: ---
All Araby and Persia held their breath.
All but the brave Mondeer. He, proud to show
How far for love a grateful soul could go,
And facing death for very scorn and grief
(For his great heart wanted a great relief),
Stood forth in Bagdad daily in the square,
Where once had stood a happy house; and there
Harangued the tremblers at the scimitar
On all they owed to the divine Jaffar'.
Bring me the man!" the calif cried.
Was brought, was gazed upon. The mutes began
To bind his arms. "Welcome, brave cords!" cried he;
"From bonds far worse Jaffar delivered me;
From wants, from shames, from loveless household fears;
Made a man's eyes friends with delicious tears;
Restored me, loved me, put me on a par
With his great self. How can I pay
Haroun, who felt that on a soul like this
The mightiest vengeance could but fall amiss,
Now deigned to smile, as one great lord of fate
Might smile upon another half as great,
And said: "Let worth grow frenzied, if it will;
The calif's judgment shall be master still.
Go; and, since gifts thus move thee, take this
The richest in the Tartar's diadem,
And hold the giver as thou deemest fit."
"Gifts!" cried the friend. He took; and, holding it High toward the heaven, as though to meet his star, Exclaimed, "This, too, I owe to thee, Jaffar'!"
XLIX. THE AMERICAN HERO.*
WHY should vain mortals tremble at the sight of
Death and Destruction in the field of battle,
Where blood and carnage clothe the ground in crimson
Sounding with death-groans?
Death will invade us by the means appointed,
And we must all bow to the king of terrors;
Nor am I anxious, if I am preparëd,
What shape he comes in.
Infinite Goodness teaches us submission,
Bids us be quiet under all His dealings,
Never repining, but for ever praising
God our Creator.
Then to the wisdom of my Lord and Master
I will commit all that I have or wish for:
Sweetly as babes sleep will I give my life up,
When called to yield it.
*Written in the time of the American Revolution, at Norwich, Conn., October, 1775.
Now, Mars, I dare thee, clad in smoky pillars,
Bursting from bomb-shells, roaring from the cannon,
Rattling in grape-shot like a storm of hailstones,
Torturing ether!
While hostile hearts quick palpitate for havoc,
Let slip your bloodhounds, -ay, your British lions, -
As Death undaunted, nimble as the whirlwind,
Frightful as demons!
Let ocean waft on all your floating castles,
Fraught with destruction horrible in nature;
Then, with your sails filled by a storm of vengeance, `
Bear down to battle.
From the dire caverns made by ghostly miners,
Let the explosion, dreadful as volcanoes,
Heave the broad town, with all its wealth and people,
Quick to destruction.
Still shall the banner of the King of Heaven
Never advance where I'm afraid to follow!
While that precedes me, with an open bosom,
War, I defy thee!
Ir thou wouldst win a lasting fame,
If thou the immortal wreath wouldst claim,
And make the future bless thy name, -
Begin thy perilous career;
Keep high thy heart, thy conscience clear,
And walk thy way without a fear.
And if thou hast a voice within,
That ever whispers, "Work and win,"
And keeps thy soul from sloth and sin;
If thou canst plan a noble deed,
And never flag till it succeed,
Though in the strife thy heart should bleed;
If thou canst struggle day and night,
And, in the envious world's despite,
Still keep thy cyn'osure in sight; -
If thou canst see, with tranquil breast,
The knave or fool in purple dressed,
Whilst thou must walk in tattered vest;
If thou canst rise ere break of day,
And toil and moil till evening gray,
At thankless work, for scanty pay;-
If in thy progress to renown
Thou canst endure the scoff and frown
Of those who strive to pull thee down;
If thou canst bear the averted face,
The gibe, or treacherous embrace,
Of those who run the self-same race;
If thou in darkest days canst find
An inner brightness in thy mind,
To reconcile thee to thy kind:
Whatever obstacles control,
Thine hour will come. go on-true soul!
Thou 'lt win the prize, thou 'lt reach the goal.
If not what matters? Tried by fire,
And purified from low desire,
Thy spirit shall but soar the higher.
Content and hope thy heart shall buoy,
And men's neglect shall ne'er destroy
Thy secret peace, thy inward joy!
LI. THE CHRISTIAN MARTYR.
THE eyes of thousands glanced on him, as mid the cirque he stood, Unheeding of the shout which broke from that vast multitude. The prison damps had paled his cheek, and on his lofty brow Corroding care had deeply traced the furrows of his plow.
Amid the crowded cirque he stood, and raised to heaven his eye,
For well that feeble old man knew they brought him forth to die!
Yet joy was beaming in that cye, while from his lips a prayer
Passed up to heaven, and faith secured his peaceful dwelling there.
Then calmly on his foes he looked; and, as he gazed, a tear
Stole o'er his cheeks; but 't was the birth of pity, not of fear.
He knelt down on the gory sand- once more he looked toward
And to the Christian's God he prayed that they might be forgiven.
But, hark! another shout, o'er which the hungry lion's roar Is heard, like thunder, mid the swell on a tempestuous shore!
And forth the Lybian savage bursts - rolls his red eyes around;
Then on his helpless victim springs, and beats him to the ground.
Short pause was left for hope or fear; the instinctive love of life
One struggle made, but vainly made, in such unequal strife ;
Then with the scanty stream of life his jaws the savage dyed;
While, one by one, the quivering limbs his bloody feast supplied.
Rome's prince and senators partook the shouting crowd's delight;
And Beauty gazed unshrinkingly on that unhallowed sight.
But say, what evil had he done?—what sin of deepest hue?—
A blameless faith was all the crime that Christian martyr knew!
But where his precious blood was spilt, even from that barren sand,
There sprang a stem, whose vigorous boughs soon overspread the
O'er distant isles its shadow fell; nor knew its roots decay, Even when the Roman Cæsar's throne and rule had passed away.
LII. THE FORGING OF THE ANCHOR.
COME, see the Dolphin's anchor forged; 't is at a white heat now.
The windlass strains the tackle-chains, the black mound heaves below;
And red and deep a hundred veins burst out at every throe:
It rises, roars, rends all outright—O, Vulcan, what a glow!
'Tis blinding white, 't is blasting bright; the high sun shines not so!
As, quivering through his fleece of flame, the sailing monster slow
Sinks on the anvil, all about the faces fiery grow.
"Hurra!" they shout, "leap out, leap out !" bang, bang, the sledges go!
Leap out, leap out, my masters! leap out, and lay on load!
Let's forge a goodly anchora Bower thick and broad:
For a heart of oak is hanging on every blow I bode;
And I see the good ship riding all in a perilous road,
The low reef roaring on her lea; the roll of ocean poured,
From stem to stern, sea after sea; the mainmast by the board ;
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