The Poems of Henry Van Dyke Part 39

Ring up, ye silvery octaves high, Whose notes like circling swallows fly; And ring, each old sonorous bell,-- "Jesu," "Maria," "Michael!"

Weave in and out, and high and low, The magic music that you know, And let it float and flutter down To cheer the heart of the troubled town.

Ring out, "Salvator," lord of all,-- "Roland" in Ghent may hear thee call!

O brave bell-music of Malines, In this dark hour how much you mean!

The dreadful night of blood and tears Sweeps down on Belgium, but she hears Deep in her heart the melody Of songs she learned when she was free.

She will not falter, faint, nor fail, But fight until her rights prevail And all her ancient belfries ring "The Flemish Lion," "G.o.d Save the King!"

JEANNE D'ARC RETURNS [2]

1914-1916

What hast thou done, O womanhood of France, Mother and daughter, sister, sweetheart, wife, What hast thou done, amid this fateful strife, To prove the pride of thine inheritance In this fair land of freedom and romance?

I hear thy voice with tears and courage rife,-- Smiling against the swords that seek thy life,-- Make answer in a n.o.ble utterance: "I give France all I have, and all she asks.

Would it were more! Ah, let her ask and take: My hands to nurse her wounded, do her tasks,-- My feet to run her errands through the dark,-- My heart to bleed in triumph for her sake,-- And all my soul to follow thee, Jeanne d'Arc!"

April 16, 1916.

[2] This sonnet belongs with the poem on page 309, "Come Back Again, Jeanne D'Arc."

THE NAME OF FRANCE

Give us a name to fill the mind With the s.h.i.+ning thoughts that lead mankind, The glory of learning, the joy of art,-- A name that tells of a splendid part In the long, long toil and the strenuous fight Of the human race to win its way From the feudal darkness into the day Of Freedom, Brotherhood, Equal Right,-- A name like a star, a name of light.

I give you _France_!

Give us a name to stir the blood With a warmer glow and a swifter flood, At the touch of a courage that conquers fear,-- A name like the sound of a trumpet, clear, And silver-sweet, and iron-strong, That calls three million men to their feet, Ready to march, and steady to meet The foes who threaten that name with wrong,-- A name that rings like a battle-song.

I give you _France_!

Give us a name to move the heart With the strength that n.o.ble griefs impart, A name that speaks of the blood outpoured To save mankind from the sway of the sword,-- A name that calls on the world to share In the burden of sacrificial strife When the cause at stake is the world's free life And the rule of the people everywhere,-- A name like a vow, a name like a prayer.

I give you _France_!

The Hague, September, 1916.

AMERICA'S PROSPERITY

They tell me thou art rich, my country: gold In glittering flood has poured into thy chest; Thy flocks and herds increase, thy barns are pressed With harvest, and thy stores can hardly hold Their merchandise; unending trains are rolled Along thy network rails of East and West; Thy factories and forges never rest; Thou art enriched in all things bought and sold!

But dost _thou_ prosper? Better news I crave.

O dearest country, is it well with thee Indeed, and is thy soul in health?

A n.o.bler people, hearts more wisely brave, And thoughts that lift men up and make them free,-- These are prosperity and vital wealth!

The Hague, October 1, 1916.

THE GLORY OF s.h.i.+PS

The glory of s.h.i.+ps is an old, old song, since the days when the sea-rovers ran, In their open boats through the roaring surf, and the spread of the world began; The glory of s.h.i.+ps is a light on the sea, and a star in the story of man.

When Homer sang of the galleys of Greece that conquered the Trojan sh.o.r.e, And Solomon lauded the barks of Tyre that brought great wealth to his door, 'Twas little they knew, those ancient men, what would come of the sail and the oar.

The Greek s.h.i.+ps rescued the West from the East, when they harried the Persians home; And the Roman s.h.i.+ps were the wings of strength that bore up the empire, Rome; And the s.h.i.+ps of Spain found a wide new world, far over the fields of foam.

Then the tribes of courage at last saw clear that the ocean was not a bound, But a broad highway, and a challenge to seek for treasure as yet unfound; So the fearless s.h.i.+ps fared forth to the search, in joy that the globe was round.

Their hulls were heightened, their sails spread out, they grew with the growth of their quest; They opened the secret doors of the East, and the golden gates of the West; And many a city of high renown was proud of a s.h.i.+p on its crest.

The fleets of England and Holland and France were at strife with each other and Spain; And battle and storm sent a myriad s.h.i.+ps to sleep in the depths of the main; But the seafaring spirit could never be drowned, and it filled up the fleets again.

They greatened and grew, with the aid of steam, to a wonderful, vast array, That carries the thoughts and the traffic of men into every harbor and bay; And now in the world-wide work of the s.h.i.+ps 'tis England that leads the way.

O well for the leading that follows the law of a common right on the sea!

But ill for the leader who tries to hold what belongs to mankind in fee!

The way of the s.h.i.+ps is an open way, and the ocean must ever be free!

Remember, O first of the maritime folk, how the rise of your greatness began.

It will live if you safeguard the round-the-world road from the shame of a selfish ban; For the glory of s.h.i.+ps is a light on the sea, and a star in the story of man!

September 12, 1916.

MARE LIBERUM

I

You dare to say with perjured lips, "We fight to make the ocean free"?

_You_, whose black trail of butchered s.h.i.+ps Bestrews the bed of every sea Where German submarines have wrought Their horrors! Have you never thought,-- What you call freedom, men call piracy!

II

Unnumbered ghosts that haunt the wave, Where you have murdered, cry you down; And seamen whom you would not save, Weave now in weed-grown depths a crown Of shame for your imperious head, A dark memorial of the dead Women and children whom you sent to drown.

III

Nay, not till thieves are set to guard The gold, and corsairs called to keep O'er peaceful commerce watch and ward, And wolves to herd the helpless sheep, Shall men and women look to thee, Thou ruthless Old Man of the Sea, To safeguard law and freedom on the deep!