The work for Him I asked and aimed to do,
Ere death should claim my dust, my spirit free,—
That, looking down from where the wise and true
Inherit glory, gracious eyes might see
A spark I kindled beaming endlessly,
And lighting other wanderers to the goal
Where blends the life that is with life to be;—
Now done, or well or ill, the lettered scroll
Of what is writ on heart and mind I here unroll.
CANTO ONE
As From a Dream[1]
Youth's morn was breaking, when I dreamed a dream,
Splendid as springtime's weft of wonders rare;
Idyllic vision, beauteous, bright romance,
Glory of love and glamor of renown.
I dreamed that fame held all of happiness,
Save the sweet charm that lurked in woman's smile.
Wealth wooed I not, nor power—to wear the sign
And wave the symbol of authority;
To speak, and have hosts tremble; or to frown,
And find all pale and prostrate at my feet. 10
But oh! to sway, like swinging forest boughs
In summer breeze, men's yearning hearts and minds,—
Sway them in duty's name, in virtue's cause,
By tongue of thunder or by pen of flame,
Leaving some wise, sublime, benefic deed,
Some word or work of merit and of might,
To fix the fleeting gaze of centuries!
Glory and love—these were my guides divine,
The planet passions of my destiny,
The Baal and Astoreth[2] to whom I bowed, 20
At human shrines a worldly worshiper,
Adoring beauteous dust, my fellow clay,
And coveting an earthly immortality.
And at the feet of these dear deities,
Careless of great Jehovah's smile or frown,
In the fresh morning of my youth's fair might,
Slumbering I dreamed, till golden grew the dawn.
A strange and stern awakening—a sky,
Pearl, gold, and sapphire, clear and calm till then,
Cloud-curtained, grim, with anger audible, 30
Tortured and torn with swift-flung darts of fire;
Booming and crashing, bolt on bolt descends;
Earth, air, and heaven are wrapt in roaring flame.
And when the rifted storm has rolled away,
And stillness reascends her solemn throne,
Ruin looks forth from retrospection's tower,
And memory weeps where desolation reigns.
It was the end. Dispelled illusion's dream.
Youth's fond ideals, thunder-stricken, strewn,
Lay level with the dust. But light had come! 40
My soul had cast its fetters and was free.