James Barron Hope

We sat beneath tall waving trees that flung
Their heavy shadows o'er the dewy grass.
Over the waters, breaking at our feet,
Quivered the moon, and lighted solemnly
The scene before us.

        He with whom I talked
Was in the noble vigor of his youth:
Tall, much beyond the standard, and well knit,
With a dark, Norman face, from which the breeze
Flung back his locks of ebon darkness which
In rare luxuriance fell around his brow,
That, in its massive beauty, brought me up
Pictures by ancient masters; or the sharp
And perfect features carved by Grecian hands,
In days when Gods, in forms worthy of Gods,
Started from marble to bewitch the world -
A brow so beautiful was his, that one
Might well conceive it always bound with dreams;
His eyes were lum...

Plain men have fitful moods and so have Kings,
For Kings are only men, and often made
Of clay as common as e'er stained a spade.
But when the great are moody, then, the strings
Of gilded harps are smitten, and their strains
Are soft and soothing as the Summer rains.

And Saul was taken by an evil mood,
He felt within himself his spirit faint:
In vain he tossed upon his couch and wooed
Refreshing slumbers. Sleep knows no constraint!
Then David came: his physic and advice
All in a harp, and cleared the mind of Saul -
And Saul thereafter launched his javelin twice
To nail the harper to the palace wall!

Oft when pacing thro' the long and dim
Dark gallery of the Past, I pause before
A picture of which this is a copy -
Wretched at best.

How fair she look'd, standing a-tiptoe there,
Pois'd daintily upon her little feet!
The slanting sunset falling thro' the leaves
In golden glory on her smiling face,
Upturn'd towards the blushing roses; while
The breeze that came up from the river's brink,
Shook all their clusters over her fair face;
And sported with her robe, until methought,
That she stood there clad wondrously indeed!
In perfume and in music: for her dress
Made a low, rippling sound, like little waves
That break at midnight on the tawny sands -
While all the evening air of roses whisper'd.
Over her face a rich, warm blush spread slowly,
And sh...

"I can easier teach twenty what were good to be done
Than to be one of the twenty to follow my own teaching,"
    - Merchant of Venice.

"Do as I tell you, and not as I do."
    - Old Saying.

You say, a "moral sign-post" I
Point out the road towards the sky;
And then with glance so very shy
You archly ask me, lady, why
I hesitate myself to go
In the direction which I show?

To answer is an easy task,
If you allow me but to ask
One little question, sweet, of you: -
'Tis this: should sign-posts travel too
What would bewildered pilgrims do -
Celestial pilgrims, such as you?

"He that giveth to the poor, lendeth to the Lord."

The night-wind comes in sudden squalls:
The ruddy fire-light starts and falls
Fantastically on the walls.

The bare trees all their branches wave;
The frantic wind doth howl and rave,
Like prairie-wolf above a grave.

The moon looks out; but cold and pale,
And seeming scar'd at this wild gale
Draws o'er her pallid face a veil.

In vain I turn the poet's page--
In vain consult some ancient sage--
I hear alone the tempest rage.

The shutters tug at hinge and bar--
The windows clash with frosty jar--
The child creeps closer to "Papa."

And now, I almost start aghast,
The clamor rises thick and fast,
Surely a troop of fiends drove past!

That last shock shook the ...

High-perch'd upon the rocky way,
Stands a Posada stern and grey;
Which from the valley, seems as if,
A condor there had paus'd to 'light
And rest upon that lonely cliff,
From some stupendous flight;
But when the road you gain at length,
It seems a ruin'd hold of strength,
With archway dark, and bridge of stone,
By waving shrubs all overgrown,
Which clings 'round that ruin'd gate,
Making it look less desolate;
For here and there, a wild flower's bloom
With brilliant hue relieves the gloom,
Which clings 'round that Posada's wall -
A sort of misty funeral pall.

The gulf spann'd by that olden arch
Might stop an army's onward march,
For dark and dim - far down below -
'Tis lost amid a torrent's flow;
And blending with the eagle's scream

He chastens us as nations and as men,
He smites us sore until our pride doth yield,
And hence our heroes, each with hearts for ten,
Were vanquished in the field;

And stand to-day beneath our Southern sun
O'erthrown in battle and despoiled of hope,
Their drums all silent and their cause undone,
And they all left to grope

In darkness till God's own appointed time
In His own manner passeth fully by.
Our Penance this. His Parable sublime
Means we must learn to die.

Not as our soldiers died beneath their flags,
Not as in tumult and in blood they fell,
When from their columns, clad in homely rags,
Rose the Confederate yell.

Not as they died, though never mortal men
Since Tubal Cain first forged his cruel blade
Fought as they fought,...

The Brave young Marquis, second but to one
For whom he felt the reverence of a son,
Rides at the head of his division proud -
A ray of Glory painted on the cloud!
Mad Anthony is there, and Knox - but why
Great names like battle flags attempt to fly?
Who sings of skies lit up by Jove and Mars
Thinks not to chant a catalogue of stars!
I bow me low, and bowing low I pass
Unnumbered heroes in unnumbered mass,
While at their head in grave, and sober state,
Rides one whom Time has found completely great
Master of Fortune and the match of Fate!


Then Tilghman mounted on these Plains of York
Swift sped away as speeds the homing hawk,
And soon 'twas his to wake that watchman's cry
That woke all Nations and shall never die!

Of their great names I may record but few;
He who beholds the Ocean white with sails
And copies each confuses all the view,
        He paints too much - and fails.

His picture shows no high, emphatic light,
Its shadows in full mass refuse to fall,
And as its broken details meet the light
        Men turn it to the wall.

Of those great names but few may pass my lips,
For he who speaks of Salamis then sees
Not men who there commanded Grecian ships -
        But grand Themistocles!

Yet some I mark, and these discreetly take
To grace my verse through duty and design,
As one notes barks that leave the broadest wake
        Upon the stormy Brine.

These rise before me; and there Mason stands
The Constitution-maker firm and bold,
Like...

O'er town, and works, and waves amain
Far fell grim Ruin's furious rain,
O'er parapet and mast,
And riding on the thunder-swell
Far flew the shot, far flew the shell
Red Havoc on the blast!
Then as the flashing cannon sowed
Their iron crop brave Nelson rode,
His bridle bit all foam,
Up to the gunners, and said he:
"Batter yon mansion down for me" -
"Basement, and walls, and dome!"
And better to sharpen those gunners' wits,
"Five guineas," he cried, "for each shot that hits!" -
That mansion was his home!

Superb in white and red, and white and gold,
And white and violet, the French unfold
Their blazoned banners on the Autumn air,
While cymbols clash and brazen trumpets blare:
Steeds fret and foam, and spurs with scabbards clank
As far they form, in many a shining rank.
Deux-Ponts is there, as hilt to sword blade true,
And Guvion rises smiling on the view;
And the brave Swede, as yet untouched by Fate,
Rides 'mid his comrades with a mien elate;
And Duportail - and scores of others glance
Upon the scene, and all are worthy France!
And for those Frenchmen and their splendid bands,
The very Centuries shall clap their hands,
While at their head, as all their banners flow,
And all their drums roll out, and trumpets blow,
Rides first and foremost splendid Rochambeau!<...

Achilles came from Homer's Jove-like brain,
Pavilioned 'mid his ships where Thetis trod;
But he whose image dominates this plain
        Came from the hand of God!

Yet, of his life, which shall all time adorn
I dare not sing; to try the theme would be
To drink as 'twere that Scandinavian Horn
        Whose tip was in the Sea.

I bow my head and go upon my ways,
Who tells that story can but gild the gold -
Could I pile Alps on Apennines of praise
    The tale would not be told.

Not his the blade which lyric fables say
Cleft Pyrenees from ridge to nether bed,
But his the sword which cleared the Sacred Way
    For Freedom's feet to tread.

Not Caesar's genius nor Napoleon's skill
Gave him proud mast'ry o'er the trembling earth;
But...

Full-burnished through the long-revolving years
The ploughshare of a Century to-day
Runs peaceful furrows where a crop of Spears
Once stood in War's array.

And we, like those who on the Trojan plain
See hoary secrets wrenched from upturned sods; -
Who, in their fancy, hear resound again
The battle-cry of gods; -

We now, - this splendid scene before us spread
Where Freedom's full hexameter began -
Restore our Epic, which the Nations read
As far its thunders ran.

Here visions throng on People and on Bard,
Ranks all a-glitter in battalions massed
And closed around as like a plumèd guard,
They lead us down the Past.

I see great Shapes in vague confusion march
Like giant shadows, moving vast and slow,
Beneath some torch-lit temple'...

On the night air there floating comes, hoarse, war-like, low and deep,
A sound as tho' the dreaming drums were talking in their sleep.

"Fall in! Fall in!" The stormers form, in silence, stern and grim,
Each heart full-beating out the time to Freedom's battle hymn. -

"Charge! en Avant!" - The word goes forth and forth the stormers go,
Each column like a mighty shaft shot from a mighty bow.

And tumult rose upon the night like sound of roaring seas,
Mars drank of the Horn of Ulphus and he drained it to the lees!

Now by fair Freedom's splendid dreams! it was a gallant sight
To see the blows against the foes well struck that Autumn night!

Gimat, and Fish, and Hamilton, and Laurens pressed the foe,
And Olney - brave Rhode Islander! - was there, alas! lai...

And here France came one hundred years ago!
Red, russet, purple glowed upon the trees,
And sunset glories deepened in their glow
Along the painted seas.

A wealth of color blazed on land and wave,
Topaz and gold, and crimson met the eye -
October hailed the ships which came to save
With banners in the sky.

DeBarras swept down from the Northern coast,
DeGrasse, foam-driving, came with favoring breeze,
And here surprised the proud, marauding host
Like spectres of the seas.

Then was no time for such a boastful strain
As Campbell sang o'er Baltic's bloody tide,
Nor did Britannia dominate the main
In customary pride.

France closed this river, and France ruled yon sea,
Held all our waters in triumphant state,
Her sails foretelling wh...

Brave was the foeman! well he held his ground!
But here defeat at kindred hands he found!
The shafts rained on him, in a righteous cause,
Came from the quiver of Old England's laws!

He fought in vain; and on this spot went down
The jus divinum, and the kingly crown.
But for those scenes Time long has made amends.
The ancient enemies are present friends;
Two swords, in Massachusetts, rich in dust,
And, better still, the peacefulness of rust,
Told the whole story in its double parts
To one who lives in two great nations' hearts;
And late above Old England's roar and din
Slow-tolling bells spoke sympathy of kin:
Victoria's wreath blooms on the sleeping breast
Of him just gone to his reward and rest,
And firm and fast between two mighty Powers
Ne...

As some spent gladiator, struck by Death,
Whose reeling vision scarce a foe defines,
For one last effort gathers all his breath,
England draws in her lines.

Her blood-red flag floats out full fair, but flows
O'er crumbling bastions, in fictitious state:
Who stands a siege Cornwallis full well knows,
        Plays at a game with Fate.

Siege means surrender at the bitter end,
From Ilium downward such the sword-made rule,
With few exceptions, few indeed amend
    This law in any school!

The student who for these has ever sought
'Mid his exceptions Cæsar counts as one,
Besieger and besieged he, victor, fought
Under a Gallic sun.

For Vircinget'rex failed, but at the wall:
He strove and failed gilded by Glory's rays
So that true sol...

Behind the town the sun sinks down
Gilding the vane upon the spire,
While many a wall reels to its fall
Beneath the fell artillery fire.

As sinks that sun mortar and gun
Like living things leap grim and hot,
And far and wide across the tide
Spray-furrows show the flying shot.

White smoke in clouds yon earthwork shrouds
Where, steeped in battle to the lips,
The French amain pour fiery rain
On town, and walls, and English ships.

That deadly sleet smites lines and fleet,
As closes in the Autumn night,
And Aboville from head to heel
Thrills with the battle's wild delight.

At every flash oak timbers crash -
A sudden glare yon frigate dyes!
Then flames up-gush, and roar, and rush,
From deck to where her pennon flies!