Choice Specimens of American Literature, and Literary Reader Part 56

Touched by the magic spell, the sacred fountains of feeling Glowed with the light of love, as the skies and waters around her.

Then from a neighboring thicket the mocking-bird, wildest of singers, Swinging aloft on a willow spray that hung o'er the water, Shook from his little throat such floods of delirious music, That the whole air and the woods and the waves seemed silent to listen.

Plaintive at first were the tones and sad; then soaring to madness, Seemed they to follow or guide the revel of frenzied Bacchantes.

Single notes were then heard, in sorrowful, low lamentation; Till, having gathered them all, he flung them abroad in derision, As when, after a storm, a gust of wind through the tree-tops Shakes down the rattling rain in a crystal shower on the branches.

With such a prelude as this, and hearts that throbbed with emotion, Slowly they entered the Teche, where it flows through the green Opelousas, And through the amber air, above the crest of the woodland, Saw the column of smoke that arose from a neighboring dwelling;-- Sounds of a horn they heard, and the distant lowing of cattle.

From "The Song of Hiawatha."

=_370._= HIAWATHA'S DEPARTURE.

On the sh.o.r.e stood Hiawatha, Turned and waved his hand at parting; On the clear and luminous water Launched his birch canoe for sailing, From the pebbles of the margin Shoved it forth into the water; Whispered to it, "Westward! westward!"

And with speed it darted forward.

And the evening sun descending Set the clouds on fire with redness, Burned the broad sky, like a prairie, Left upon the level water One long track and trail of splendor, Down whose streams, as down a river, Westward, westward Hiawatha Sailed into the fiery sunset, Sailed into the purple vapors, Sailed into the dusk of evening.

And the people from the margin Watched him floating, rising, sinking, Till the birch canoe seemed lifted High into that sea of splendor, Till it sank into the vapors Like the new moon slowly, slowly Sinking in the purple distance.

And they said, "Farewell for ever!"

Said, "Farewell, O Hiawatha!"

And the forests, dark and lonely, Moved through all their depth of darkness, Sighed, "Farewell, O Hiawatha!"

And the waves upon the margin Rising, rippling on the pebbles, Sobbed, "Farewell, O Hiawatha!"

And the heron, the Shu-shuh-gah, From her haunts among the fen-lands, Screamed, "Farewell, O Hiawatha!"

Thus departed Hiawatha, Hiawatha the beloved, In the glory of the sunset, In the purple mists of evening, To the regions of the home-wind, Of the Northwest wind Keewaydin, To the islands of the Blessed, To the kingdom of Ponemah, To the land of the Hereafter!

=_William D. Gallagher, 1808-._= (Manual, p. 523.)

=_371._= THE LABORER.

Stand up--erect! Thou hast the form, And likeness of thy G.o.d!--who more?

A soul as dauntless mid the storm Of daily life, a heart as warm And pure, as breast e'er bore.

What then?--Thou art as true a Man As moves the human ma.s.s among; As much a part of the Great plan That with creation's dawn began, As any of the throng.

Who is thine enemy? the high In station, or in wealth the chief?

The great, who coldly pa.s.s thee by, With proud step and averted eye?

Nay! nurse not such belief.

No:--uncurbed pa.s.sions--low desires-- Absence of n.o.ble self-respect-- Death, in the breast's consuming fires, To that high Nature which aspires For ever, till thus checked:

True, wealth thou hast not: 'tis but dust!

Nor place; uncertain as the wind!

But that thou hast, which, with thy crust And water, may despise the l.u.s.t Of both--a n.o.ble mind.

With this and pa.s.sions under ban, True faith, and holy trust in G.o.d, Thou art the peer of any man.

Look up, then--that thy little span Of life, may be well trod!

=_John G. Whittier, 1808-._= (Manual, pp. 490, 522.)

=_372._= WHAT THE VOICE SAID.

Maddened by Earth's wrong and evil, "Lord," I cried in sudden ire, "From thy right hand, clothed with thunder, Shake the bolted fire!

"Love is lost, and Faith is dying; With the brute, the man is sold; And the dropping blood of labor Hardens into gold."

"Thou, the patient Heaven upbraiding,"

Spake a solemn Voice within; "Weary of our Lord's forbearance, Art thou free from sin?"

"Earnest words must needs be spoken When the warm heart bleeds or burns With its scorn of wrong, or pity For the wronged, by turns.

"But, by all thy nature's weakness, Hidden faults and follies known, Be thou, in rebuking evil, Conscious of thine own.

"Not the less shall stern-eyed Duty To thy lips her trumpet set, But with harsher blasts shall mingle Wailings of regret."

Cease not, Voice of holy speaking, Teacher sent of G.o.d, be near, Whispering through the day's cool silence, Let my spirit hear!

So, when thoughts of evil doers Waken scorn, or hatred move, Shall a mournful fellow-feeling Temper all with love.

From "The Tent on the Beach."

=_373._= THE ATLANTIC TELEGRAPH.

O lonely bay of Trinity, O dreary sh.o.r.es, give ear!

Lean down unto the white-lipped sea The voice of G.o.d to hear!

From world to world his couriers fly, Thought-winged, and shod with fire; The angel of his stormy sky Rides down the sunken wire.

What saith the herald of the Lord?

"The world's long strife is done; Close wedded by that mystic cord, Its continents are one.

"And one in heart, as one in blood, Shall all her peoples be; The hands of human brotherhood Are clasped beneath the sea.

"Through Orient seas, o'er Afric's plain And Asian mountains borne, The vigor of the Northern brain Shall nerve the world outworn.

"From clime to clime, from sh.o.r.e to sh.o.r.e, Shall thrill the magic thread; The new Prometheus steals once more The fire that wakes the dead."