THE LOST [LEADER][°]
Just for a handful of silver he left us,
Just for a riband to stick in his coat—
Found the one gift of which fortune bereft us,
Lost all the others she lets us devote;
They, with the gold to give, doled him out silver,
So much was theirs who so little allowed;
How all our copper had gone for his service!
Rags—were they purple, his heart had been proud!
We that had loved him so, followed him, honoured him,
10Lived in his mild and magnificent eye,
Learned his great language, caught his clear accents,
Made him our pattern to live and to die!
°[13]Shakespeare[°] was of us, Milton° was for us,
°[14]Burns,[°] Shelley,° were with us,—they watch from their graves!
He alone breaks from the van and the freemen,[page 76]
He alone sinks to the rear and the slaves!
We shall march prospering—not through his presence;
Songs may inspirit us,—not from his lyre:
Deeds will be done,—while he boasts his quiescence,
20Still bidding crouch whom the rest bade aspire:
Blot out his name, then, record one lost soul more,
One task more declined, one more footpath untrod,
One more devil's-triumph and sorrow for angels,
One wrong more to man, one more insult to God!
Life's night begins: let him never come back to us!
There would be doubt, hesitation, and pain,
Forced praise on our part—the glimmer of twilight,
Never glad confident morning again!
Best fight on well, for we taught him—strike gallantly,
30Menace our heart ere we master his own;
Then let him receive the new knowledge and wait us,
Pardoned in heaven, the first by the throne!
APPARENT [FAILURE][°]
"We shall soon lose a celebrated building."
—Paris Newspaper.
No, for I'll save it! Seven years since
I passed through Paris, stopped a day
°[3]To see the baptism of your Prince,[°]
Saw, made my bow, and went my way:
Walking the heat and headache off,
I took the Seine-side, you surmise,
°[7]Thought of the Congress,[°] Gortschakoff,°
°[8] Cavour's° appeal and Buol's° replies,
So sauntered till—what met my eyes?
10Only the Doric little Morgue!
The dead-house where you show your drowned:
°[12]Petrarch's Vaucluse[°] makes proud the Sorgue,°
Your Morgue has made the Seine renowned.
°[14]One pays one's debt[°] in such a case;
I plucked up heart and entered,—stalked,
Keeping a tolerable face
Compared with some whose cheeks were chalked:
Let them! No Briton's to be balked!
First came the silent gazers; next,[page 78]
20 A screen of glass, we're thankful for;
Last, the sight's self, the sermon's text,
The three men who did most abhor
Their life in Paris yesterday,
So killed themselves: and now, enthroned
Each on his copper couch, they lay
Fronting me, waiting to be owned.
I thought, and think, their sin's atoned.
Poor men, God made, and all for that!
The reverence struck me; o'er each head
30Religiously was hung its hat,
Each coat dripped by the owner's bed,
Sacred from touch: each had his berth,
His bounds, his proper place of rest,
Who last night tenanted on earth
Some arch, where twelve such slept abreast,—
Unless the plain asphalt seemed best.
How did it happen, my poor boy?
You wanted to be Buonaparte
°[39]And have the Tuileries[°] for toy,
40 And could not, so it broke your heart?
You, old one by his side, I judge,[page 79]
Were, red as blood, a socialist,
A leveller! Does the Empire grudge
You've gained what no Republic missed?
Be quiet, and unclench your fist!
And this—why, he was red in vain,
°[47] Or black,—poor fellow that is blue[°]!
What fancy was it, turned your brain?
Oh, women were the prize for you!
50Money gets women, cards and dice
Get money, and ill-luck gets just
The copper couch and one clear nice
Cool squirt of water o'er your bust,
The right thing to extinguish lust!
It's wiser being good than bad;
It's safer being meek than fierce:
It's fitter being sane than mad.
My own hope is, a sun will pierce
The thickest cloud earth ever stretched;
60 That, after Last, returns the First,
Tho' a wide compass round be fetched;
That what began best, can't end worst,
Nor what God blessed once, prove accurst