Classic Poem

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F AR in the East, — where restless Change alone
For ages reigned, while Progress was unknown, —
Signs now appear of dim yet dawning light,
Threatening the realm of Chaos and old Night.
China has opened wide her long-barred gates,
And coy Japan no longer hesitates.
Four Christian Powers, with fleets and armies strong,
Ended the long debate 'twixt right and wrong.
In vain Celestials would their forts defend,
With countless guns and soldiers without end:
Guns out of date, and soldiers out of heart,
Vainly resist the weight of western art.
Where skill and courage are not, crowds are vain,
And numbers only swell the numbers of the slain.
Victorious soon, within the sacred stream
Wave English pennons, and French sabres gleam.
Their black war-vessels, leaving on the air
Long trails of smoke-cloud, far and farther bear,
Through shifting channel and o'er shallow bar,
The thundering dread of European war.
With fitful shriek, and dull continual roar,
That startles all the windings of the shore,
The steamers plough their way; until, at length,
The " Son of Heaven " meets their resistless strength,
At first, by diplomatic sleight of hand:
That failing, he grants all that they demand.
Nor trade alone was thought of in that hour,
Nor what concerned the growth of earthly power:
But that old Empire gave its full consent
To preach Glad T IDINGS through its whole extent;
Not in the seaports only, but in all
Its swarming cities, — from the Northern Wall
To Southern Seas, and from the sea-coast low
To Thibet's mountains white with constant snow.

The murderous storm that raged on India's plain
Has spent its fury, and subsides again,
Though the hot hate that hatched it into life
Still keeps alive some embers of the strife.
Through Islam's baleful realms, where'er we turn,
The subterranean fires break out and burn.
Witness the desperate deeds at Gaza done;
The massacre at Djiddah, where scarce one
Escaped to tell the tale; and Jaffa, too,
Jerusalem, Damascus, — all imbrue
With Christian blood the hands of Arab foes.
Through all its mountains Anatolia shows
The same fanatic zeal. Yet weaker now
And weaker, daily, Islam's forces grow.
Whilom the wild Crusades, with deadly loss,
Brought face to face the Crescent and the Cross.
The Christian chivalry, wave after wave,
Dashed on the Paynim power to find — a grave:
Then back recoiled after the fatal shock; —
Recoiled, as baffled billows leave the rock.
Five hundred years since then has Europe grown,
Till earth now holds no power to match her own:
Five hundred years have seen proud Islam fade,
And dwindle to the shadow of a shade.
Its few remaining zealots feel the weight
Of Europe's greatness crushing them like Fate.
They gnash, they bite, they strike in blindest ways, —
Their rage increasing as their strength decays.
Their creed is doomed. These furious blows and cries
Are but its last fierce outburst, ere it breaks and dies.

Great are its gains abroad, yet Christendom
Has — did she know it — work enough at home.
Only that work at home it is, that can
Make truly strong the fallen race of man.
'Tis one by one that polished stones and square
Rise in a temple, noble, vast and fair.
A mighty power thus Christian nations be:
Freemen alone are those whom T RUTH makes free.
Not to the plains of Syria need we go,
To meet and conquer hostile Arabs. No!
Where'er he goes, our bold Crusader meets
Tribes of wild Arabs prowling through our streets; —
Brutal and drunken, filthy with the slime
Of lust, sharp, thievish, bloody, black with crime.
Cripples, and lepers foul with running sores, —
The spume of Europe cast upon our shores!
These be our foes, — to clothe, to feed, to tend,
To teach, to bless, to rescue and defend!
These be our conquests, this our Cross to bear!
A Cross, not only on the breast to wear, —
As when the knights and squires and barons bold
Fought, and were vanquished, in the days of old:
But in the heart abiding, where alone
It makes the power of Christ Himself its own.
Then, with our spirit-sword, and watchword " Prayer, "
Here be our Holy Land; yea, everywhere!
Thus shall the power of Christendom, at length,
Rise to the perfect measure of its strength;
And, matchless in its might of heavenly birth,
Spread till its wondrous glory filleth all the earth!