Classic Poem

The maiden on her narrow bed
To needful solitude hath fled;
He who perform'd the funeral prayer
Leans o'er the vessel's head, and there
Contemplating the sea and sky,
He muses of eternity.
The captain paces to and fro
The deck with steady step and slow,
And at his side a passenger,
Conversing as they go.
Their talk was of that maid forlorn,
The mournful service of the morn,
And the young man, whose voice of heartfelt faith
Breathed hope and comfort o'er the bed of death.
" Captain, " quoth Randolph, " you have borne,
Ere this, I ween, to Boston's shore,
Saints by the dozen, and the score:
But if he preach as he can pray,
The Boston men will bless the day
On which you brought this treasure o'er:
A youth like him they well may call
A son of thunder, or a second Paul. "
Thereat the captain smiled, and said,
" Oh hang the broad face and round head,
Hard as iron, and heavy as lead!
I have whistled for a wind ere now,
And thought it cheap to crack a sail,
If it sent the canting breed below.
Jonah was three days in the whale,
But I have had fellows here, I trow,
With lungs of brazen power,
Who would not fail to preach a whale
Dead sick in half an hour.
One Sunday, when on the banks we lay,
These Roundheads, think ye, what did they?
Because, they said, 'twas the sabbath day,
And hallow'd by the Lord,
They took the fish, which their servants caught,
And threw them overboard.
Newman is made of different clay;
He walks in his own quiet way:
And yet beneath that sober mien
Gleams of a spirit may be seen,
Which show what temper lies supprest
Within his meek and unambitious breast:
He seemeth surely one of gentle seed,
Whose sires for many an age were wont to lead
In courts and councils, and in camps to bleed. "

Randolph replied, " He rules his tongue too well
Ever of those from whom he sprung to tell:
Whatever rank they once possess'd
In camps and councils, is, I ween, suppress'd
In prudent silence. Little love that pair
Could to the royal Martyr bear,
Be sure, who named their offspring Oliver.
You have mark'd that volume, over which he seems
To pore and meditate, like one who dreams,
Pondering upon the page with thought intense,
That nought, which passes round him, can from thence
His fix'd attention move:
He carries it about his person still,
Nor lays it from him for a moment's time.
At my request, one day, with no good will,
He lent it me: what, think ye, did it prove?
A rigmarole of verses without rhyme,
About the apple, and the cause of sin,
By the blind old traitor Milton! and within,
Upon the cover, he had written thus,
As if some saintly relic it had been,
Which the fond owner gloried in possessing:
" Given me by my most venerable friend,
The author, with his blessing!" "

CAPTAIN .

Sits the wind there!

RANDOLPH .

Returning him the book,
I told him I was sorry he could find
None who deserved his veneration more
Than one who, in the blackest deed of guilt
That blots our annals, stands participant,
A volunteer in that worst infamy,
Stain'd to the core with blessed Charles his blood,
Although by some capricious mercy spared,
Strangely, as if by miracle, he still
Lived to disparage justice.

CAPTAIN .

And how brook'd he
Your reprehension?

RANDOLPH .

With his wonted air
Of self-possession, and a mind subdued:
And yet it moved him; for, though looks and words
By the strong mastery of his practised will
Were overruled, the mounting blood betray'd
An impulse in its secret spring too deep
For his control. By taking up my speech,
He answered with a simulated smile:
" Sir, you say well; by miracle indeed
The life so fairly forfeited seems spared;
And it was worth the special care of Heaven;
Else had the hangman and the insensate axe
Cut off this toil divine. " With that his eyes
Flash'd, and a warmer feeling flush'd his cheek:
" Time will bring down the pyramids, " he cried,
" Eldest of human works, and wear away
The dreadful Alps, coeval with himself:
But while yon sun shall hold his place assign'd,
This ocean ebb and flow, and the round earth,
Obedient to the Almighty Mover, fill
Her silent revolutions, Milton's mind
Shall dwell with us, an influence and a power;
And this great monument, which he hath built,
Outliving empires, pyramids, and Alps,
Endure, the lasting wonder of mankind. "

CAPTAIN .

This is stark madness.

RANDOLPH .

Or stark poetry,
Two things as near as Grub Street and Moorfields.
But he came bravely off; for, softening soon
To his habitual suavity, he said,
Far was it from his thought to vindicate
Ill deeds of treason and of blood. The wise
Had sometimes err'd, the virtuous gone astray:
Too surely in ourselves we felt the seed
" Of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste
Brought death into the world and all our woe: "
His friend, like other men, had drawn a part
Of that sad heritage; he loved in him
His wisdom and his virtue, not his faults.

CAPTAIN .

Well said, and manfully, like one who speaks
The honest truth.

RANDOLPH .

Why, so it sounds, and seems.

CAPTAIN .

And we must needs admit, he hath not left
His native country in that piggish mood
Which neither will be led nor driven, but grunts
And strives with stubborn neck and groundling snout,
Struggling through mire and brake, to right and left,
No matter where, so it can only take
The way it should not go. One of that herd,
Rather than read the service, would have seen
The dead thrown overboard without a prayer.

RANDOLPH .

Yet he hath freaks and follies of opinion;
The bubbles of a yeasty mind, that works
As it would crack its vessel.

CAPTAIN .

They are ever
The sweetest nuts in which the maggot breeds.

RANDOLPH .

But, once fly-stricken, what avails their sweetness?
Only to feed a pamper'd grub, that leaves
Nothing but dirt and hollowness behind it.
Tainted the young man is, and deeply too,
I fear, by birth and breeding: I perceive it
With sorrow, seeing on how fair a stock
The unlucky graft is set.

CAPTAIN .

Why then, alas
For that poor Annabel, if she must have
This farther cause to rue our baneful factions.
The wretched strife already hath entail'd
Upon her luckless family the loss
Of fair possessions, friends, and native land!
And now a chance hath offer'd, which to her,
I trow, might largely make amends for all:
It would be hard indeed, when all things seem
To square so well — youth, opportunity,
Their fortunes one, the natural dower of each
So equal, and so bountifully given,
A dying mother's blessing to crown all —
It would be hard indeed, should loyalty
Forbid the banns.

RANDOLPH .

I know her father's temper,
True as his own Toledo to the cause
Wherein they both were tried. Nor will neglect,
Ingratitude of courts, and banishment,
(For a grant in the American wilderness
Only calls exile by a fairer name,)
Subdue his high-wrought virtue. Satisfied
At last, by years of painful proof,
That loyalty must find in its own proud sense
Its own reward, that pride he will bequeath
His children as their best inheritance,
A single heir-loom rescued from the wreck,
And worth whate'er was lost.

CAPTAIN .

'Tis well the youth
Thinks less of earth than heaven, and hath his heart
More with the angels than on human love:
But if such thoughts and hopes have enter'd it,
As would some forty years ago have found
Quick entrance, and warm welcome too, in mine,
His ugly baptism may mar all, and make him
Breathe maledictions on his godfathers,
Though old Nol himself were one.

RANDOLPH .

Howbeit 't will win him
Worship and friends in the city of the saints;
And, to the ears of sober Boston men,
Oliver will be a name more savoury
Than Tribulation, or Stand-fast-in-the-Lord,
Increase or Nathan, Gershom, Ichabod,
Praise-God, or any of the Barebones breed.
They rise upon the oak-holyday with faces
A full inch longer than they took to bed:
Experienced nurses feed their babes that day
With spoons, because the mother's milk is sour;
And when they mourn upon the Martyrdom,
'Tis for the expiation, not the crime.
Oh they love dearly one of the precious seed!
Tyburn, since Sixty, in their secret hearts
Holds place of Calvary. For saints and martyrs,
None like their own Hugh Peters, and the heads
On the Hall your only relics! Fifteen years
They have hid among them the two regicides,
Shifting from den to cover, as we found
Where the scant lay. But earth them as they will,
I shall unkennel them, and from their holes
Drag them to light and justice.

CAPTAIN .

There hath been
Much wholesome sickness thrown away, Sir Randolph
On your strong stomach! Two sea voyages
Have not sufficed to clear the bile wherewith
You left New England!

RANDOLPH .

Nay, it rises in me
As I draw near their shores.

CAPTAIN .

Why then, look shortly
For a sharp fit; for, if the sky tell true,
Anon we shall have wind, and to our wish.

So spake the Captain, for his eye,
Versed in all signs and weathers,
Discerned faint traces in the eastern sky,
Such as a lion's paw might leave
Upon the desert, when the sands are dry.
The dog-vane now blows out with its light feathers;
And lo! the ship, which like a log hath lain,
Heavily rolling on the long slow swell,
Stirs with her proper impulse now, and gathers
A power like life beneath the helmsman's will.
Her head lies right; the rising breeze
Astern comes rippling o'er the seas;
A tramp of feet! a sound of busy voices!
The cordage rattles, and the topsails fill;
All hands are active, every heart rejoices.

Blest with fair seas, and favourable skies,
Right for her promised land
The gallant vessel flies;
Far, far behind her now
The foamy furrow lies;
Like dust around her prow
The ocean spray is driven.

O thou fair creature of the human hand!
Thou, who wert palsied late,
When the dead calm lay heavy on the deep,
Again hast thou received the breath of heaven,
And, waking from thy sleep,
As strength again to those broad wings is given,
Thou puttest forth thy beauty and thy state!
Hold on with happy winds thy prosperous way,
And may no storm that goodly pride abate,
Nor baffling airs thy destined course delay,
Nor the sea-rover seize thee for his prey;
But minist'ring angels wait
To watch for thee, against all ill event
From man, or from the reckless element.
Thou hast a richer freight
Than ever vessel bore from Ophir old,
Or spicey India sent,
Or Lisbon welcomed to her joyful quay
From her Brazilian land of gems and gold;
Thou carriest pious hope, and pure desires,
Such as approving angels might behold;
A heart of finest mould;
A spirit that aspires
To heaven, and draws its flame from heavenly fires;
Genius, Devotion, Faith,
Stronger than time or Death,
A temper of the high heroic mood,
By that strong faith exalted, and subdued
To a magnanimous fortitude.
The blossom of all virtues dost thou bear,
The seed of noble actions! Go thy way
Rejoicingly, from fear and evil free:
These shall be thy defence,
Beneath the all-present arm of Providence,
Against all perils of the treacherous sea.