A Wreath Of Virginia Bay Leaves Part 9

THE COLONIES.

The fountain of our story spreads no clouds Of mist above it rich in varied glows, None paint us G.o.ds and G.o.ddesses in crowds Where some Scamander flows.

The tale of Jamestown, which I need not gild, With that of Plymouth, by the World is seen, But none, in visions, fancifully build Olympus in between.

At Jamestown stood the Saxon's home and graves, There Britain's spray broke on the native rock, There rose the English tide with crested waves And overwhelming shock.

Virginia thence, stirred by a grand unrest, Swept o'er the waters, scaled the mountain's crag, Hewed out a more than Roman roadway West, And planted there her flag.

Her fortune was forewritten even then-- That fortune in the coming years to be "Mother of States and unpolluted men,"

And nurse of Liberty.

Then 'twas our coast all bore Virginia's name; Next North Virginia took its separate place, And grew by slow degrees in wealth and fame And Freedom's special grace.

[Footnote 11: Hugh Blair Grigsby, L.L.D., Chancellor of William and Mary College, and President of the Virginia Historical Society, Scholar and Historian, died on the day on which he received a gift of flowers from his life-long friend, Mr. Winthrop, and these literally gladdened the dying eyes of the n.o.ble gentleman whose loss will long be deplored by all who knew him, whether they live in Virginia or Ma.s.sachusetts.]

THE NEW ENGLAND GROUP.

At Plymouth Rock a handful of brave souls, Full-armed in faith, erected home and shrine, And flourished where the wild Atlantic rolls Its pyramids of brine.

There rose a manly race austere and strong, On whom no lessons of their day were lost, Earnest as some conventicle's deep song, And keen as their own frost.

But that shrewd frost became a friend to those Who fronted there the Ice-King's bitter storm, For see we not that underneath the snows The growing wheat keeps warm?

Soft ease and silken opulence they spurned; From sands of silver, and from emerald boughs With golden ingots laden full, they turned Like Pilgrims under vows.

For them no tropic seas, no slumbrous calms, No rich abundance generously unrolled: In place of Cromwell's proffered flow'rs and palms They chose the long-drawn cold.

The more it blew, the more they faced the gale; The more it snowed, the more they would not freeze; And when crops failed on sterile hill and vale-- They went to reap the seas!

Far North, through wild and stormy brine they ran, With hands a-cold plucked Winter by the locks!

Masterful mastered great Leviathan And drove the foam as flocks!

Next in their order came the Middle Group, Perchance less hardy, but as brave they grew,-- Grew straight and tall with not a bend, or stoop-- Heart-timber through and through!

Midway between the ardent heat and cold They spread abroad, and by a homely spell, The iron of their axes changed to gold As fast the forests fell!

Doing the things they found to do, we see That thus they drew a mighty empire's charts, And, working for the present, took in fee The future for their marts!

And there unchallenged may the boast be made, Although they do not hold his sacred dust, That Penn, the Founder, never once betrayed The simple Indian's trust.

To them the genius which linked Silver Lakes With the blue Ocean and the outer World, And the fair banner, which their commerce shakes, Wise Clinton's hand unfurled.

THE SOUTHERN COLONIES.

Then sweeping down below Virginia's Capes, From Chesapeake to where Savannah flows, We find the settlers laughing 'mid their grapes And ignorant of snows.

The fragrant _uppowock_, and golden corn Spread far a-field by river and lagoon, And all the months poured out from Plenty's Horn Were opulent as June.

Yet, they had tragedies all dark and fell!

Lone Roanoke Island rises on the view, And this Peninsula its tale could tell Of Opecancanough!

But, when the Ocean thunders on the sh.o.r.e Its waves, though broken, overflow the beach; So here our Fathers on and onward bore With English laws and speech.

Kind skies above them, underfoot rich soils; Silence and Savage at their presence fled; This Giant's Causeway, sacred through their toils, Resounded at their tread.

With ardent hearts, and ever-open hands, Candid and honest, brave and proud they grew, Their lives and habits colored by fair lands As skies give waters hue.

The race in semi-Feudal State appears-- Their Knightly figures glow in tender mist, With ghostly pennons flung from ghostly spears And ghostly hawks on wrist.

By enterprise and high adventure stirred, From rude lunette and sentry-guarded croft They hawked at Empire, and, as on they spurred, Fate's falcon soared aloft!

Fate's falcon soared aloft full strong and free, With blood on talons, plumage, beak, and breast!

Her shadow like a storm-shade on the sea Far-sailing down the West!

Swift hoofs clang out behind that Falcon's flights-- Hoofs shod with Golden Horse Shoes catch the eye!

And as they ring, we see the Forest-Knights-- The Cavaliers ride by!

THE OLD DOMINION.

Midway between the orange and the snows As some fair planet rounds up from the sea, Eldest of all, the Central Power arose In vague immensity.

She stretched from Seas in sun to Lakes in Shade, O'erstepped swift _Rio Escondido's_ stream-- Her bounds expressed, as by the Tudor made, An Alexander's dream.

And liberal Stuart granted broad and free Bound'ries which still the annalist may boast-- Limits which ran "throughout from sea to sea,"

And far along the coast!

A mighty shaft through Raleigh's fingers slipped, Smith shot it, and--a Continent awoke!

For that great arrow with an acorn tipped, Planted an English Oak!

III.

THE OAKS AND THE TEMPEST.

Oaks multiplied apace, and o'er the seas Big rumors went in many a winding ring; And stories fabulous on every breeze Swept to a distant King.

Full many a tale of wild romance, and myth, In large hyperbole the New World told, And down from days of Raleigh and of Smith The Colonies meant gold.

Not from Banchoonan's mines came forth the ore, But from the waters, and the woods, and fields, Paid for in blood, but bringing more and more The wealth that labor yields.

Then seeing this, that King beyond the sea, The _jus divinum_ filling all his soul, Bethought him that he held these lands in fee And absolute control.

When this high claim in action was displayed With one accord the young Plantations spoke, And told him, English-like, they were not made To plough with such a yoke.

Thus met, not his to falter, or to flag, A sudden fury seized the Royal breast-- Prometheus bound upon a Scythian crag His policy expressed.