Graded Poetry: Seventh Year Part 6

Ring out the grief that saps the mind, For those that here we see no more; Ring out the feud of rich and poor, Ring in redress to all mankind.

Ring out a slowly dying cause, And ancient forms of party strife; Ring in the n.o.bler modes of life, With sweeter manners, purer laws.

Ring out the want, the care, the sin, The faithless coldness of the times; Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes, But ring the fuller minstrel in.

Ring out false pride in place and blood, The civic slander and the spite; Ring in the love of truth and right, Ring in the common love of good.

Ring out old shapes of foul disease; Ring out the narrowing l.u.s.t of gold; Ring out the thousand wars of old, Ring in the thousand years of peace.

Ring in the valiant man and free, The larger heart, the kindlier hand; Ring out the darkness of the land, Ring in the Christ that is to be.

--From "IN MEMORIAM."

ALFRED DOMETT ENGLAND, 1811-1887

A CHRISTMAS HYMN

It was the calm and silent night!

Seven hundred years and fifty-three Had Rome been growing up to might, And now was queen of land and sea.

No sound was heard of clas.h.i.+ng wars; Peace brooded o'er the hushed domain: Apollo, Pallas, Jove, and Mars Held undisturbed their ancient reign, In the solemn midnight, Centuries ago.

'Twas in the calm and silent night!

The senator of haughty Rome, Impatient, urged his chariot's flight, From lordly revel rolling home; Triumphal arches, gleaming, swell.

His breast with thoughts of boundless sway; What recked the Roman what befell A paltry province far away, In the solemn midnight, Centuries ago.

Within that province far away Went plodding home a weary boor A streak of light before him lay, Fallen through a half-shut stable-door Across his path. He pa.s.sed--for naught Told what was going on within; How keen the stars, his only thought; The air how calm and cold and thin, In the solemn midnight, Centuries ago!

Oh, strange indifference! low and high Drowsed over common joys and cares; The earth was still--but knew not why; The world was listening, unawares.

How calm a moment may precede One that shall thrill the world for ever!

To that still moment none would heed, Man's doom was linked no more to sever-- In the solemn midnight, Centuries ago!

It is the calm and solemn night!

A thousand bells ring out, and throw Their joyous peals abroad, and smite The darkness--charmed and holy now!

The night that erst no name had worn, To it a happy name is given; For in that stable lay, new-born, The peaceful Prince of Earth and Heaven, In the solemn midnight, Centuries ago!

ROBERT BROWNING ENGLAND, 1812-1889

HOME-THOUGHTS FROM ABROAD

Oh, to be in England Now that April's there, And whoever wakes in England Sees, some morning unaware, That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf Round the elm tree bole are in tiny leaf, While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough In England--now!

And after April, when May follows, And the whitethroat builds and all the swallows!

Hark, where my blossomed pear tree in the hedge Leans to the field and scatters on the clover Blossoms and dewdrops, at the bent spray's edge-- That's the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over, Lest you should think he never could recapture The first fine careless rapture!

And though the fields look rough with h.o.a.ry dew, All will be gay when noontide wakes anew The b.u.t.tercups, the little children's dower-- Far brighter than this gaudy melon-flower!

PHEIDIPPIDES

First I salute this soil of the blessed, river and rock!

G.o.ds of my birthplace, daemons and heroes, honor to all!

Then I name thee, claim thee for our patron, co-equal in praise --Ay, with Zeus the Defender, with Her of the aegis and spear!

Also ye of the bow and the buskin, praised be your peer, Now, henceforth and forever,--O latest to whom I upraise Hand and heart and voice! For Athens, leave pasture and flock!

Present to help, potent to save, Pan--patron I call!

Archons of Athens, topped by the tettix, see, I return!

See, 'tis myself here standing alive, no specter that speaks!

Crowned with the myrtle, did you command me, Athens and you, "Run, Pheidippides, run and race, reach Sparta for aid!

Persia has come, we are here, where is She?" Your command I obeyed, Ran and raced: like stubble, some field which a fire runs through Was the s.p.a.ce between city and city; two days, two nights did I burn

Over the hills, under the dales, down pits and up peaks.

Into their midst I broke: breath served but for "Persia has come!

Persia bids Athens proffer slaves'-tribute, water and earth; Razed to the ground is Eretria--but Athens, shall Athens sink, Drop into dust and die--the flower of h.e.l.las utterly die, Die with the wide world spitting at Sparta, the stupid, the stander-by?

Answer me quick, what help, what hand do you stretch o'er destruction's brink?

How--when? No care for my limbs!--there's lightning in all and some-- Fresh and fit your message to bear, once lips give it birth!"

O my Athens--Sparta love thee? Did Sparta respond?

Every face of her leered in a furrow of envy, mistrust, Malice,--each eye of her gave me its glitter of gratified hate!

Gravely they turned to take counsel, to cast for excuses. I stood Quivering,--the limbs of me fretting as fire frets, an inch from dry wood: "Persia has come, Athens asks aid, and still they debate?

Thunder, thou Zeus! Athene, are Spartans a quarry beyond Swing of thy spear? Phoibos and Artemis, clang them 'Ye must'!"

No bolt launched from Olympos! Lo, their answer at last!

"Has Persia come,--does Athens ask aid,--may Sparta befriend?

Nowise precipitate judgment--too weighty the issue at stake!

Count we no time lost time which lags thro' respect to the G.o.ds!

Ponder that precept of old, 'No warfare, whatever the odds In your favor, so long as the moon, half-orbed, is unable to take Full-circle her state in the sky!' Already she rounds to it fast: Athens must wait, patient as we--who judgment suspend."

Athens,--except for that sparkle,--thy name, I had moldered to as.h.!.+

That sent a blaze thro' my blood; off, off and away was I back, --Not one word to waste, one look to lose on the false and the vile!

Yet "O G.o.ds of my land!" I cried, as each hillock and plain, Wood and stream, I knew, I named, rus.h.i.+ng past them again, "Have ye kept faith, proved mindful of honors we paid you erewhile?

Vain was the filleted victim, the fulsome libation! Too rash Love in its choice, paid you so largely service so slack!

"Oak and olive and bay,--I bid you cease to enwreathe Brows made bold by your leaf! Fade at the Persian's foot, You that, our patrons were pledged, should never adorn a slave!

Rather I hail thee, Parnes,--trust to thy wild waste tract!

Treeless, herbless, lifeless mountain! What matter if slacked My speed may hardly be, for homage to crag and to cave No deity deigns to drape with verdure?--at least I can breathe, Fear in thee no fraud from the blind, no lie from the mute!"

Such my cry as, rapid, I ran over Parnes' ridge; Gully and gap I clambered and cleared till, sudden, a bar Jutted, a stoppage of stone against me, blocking the way.

Right! for I minded the hollow to traverse, the fissure across: "Where I could enter, there I depart by! Night in the fosse?

Athens to aid? Tho' the dive were thro' Erebos, thus I obey-- Out of the day dive, into the day as bravely arise! No bridge Better!"--when--ha! what was it I came on, of wonders that are?

There, in the cool of a cleft, sat he--majestical Pan!

Ivy drooped wanton, kissed his head, moss cus.h.i.+oned his hoof; All the great G.o.d was good in the eyes grave-kindly--the curl Carved on the bearded cheek, amused at a mortal's awe As, under the human trunk, the goat-thighs grand I saw.

"Halt, Pheidippides!"--halt I did, my brain of a whirl: "Hither to me! Why pale in my presence?" he gracious began: "How is it,--Athens, only in h.e.l.las, holds me aloof?

"Athens, she only, rears me no fane, makes me no feast!

Wherefore? Than I what G.o.ds.h.i.+p to Athens more helpful of old?