A Wreath of Virginia Bay Leaves | Page 9

social temple's symmetry and grace.

But here I pause, for happier omens look,?And playing Flamen turn to Nature's book:?Where late rich Autumn sat on golden throne,?A stern usurper makes the crown his own;?The courtier woodlands, robbed of all their state,?Stripped of their pomp, look grim and desolate;?Reluctant conscripts, clad in icy mail,?Their captive pleadings rise on every gale.?Now mighty oaks stand like bereaved Lears;?Pennons are furled on all the sedgy spears?Where the sad river glides between its banks,?Like beaten general twixt his pompless ranks;?And the earth's bosom, clad in armor now,?Bids stern defiance to the iron plough,?While o'er the fields so desolate and damp?Invading Winter spreads his hostile camp.[4]
And as he shakes his helmet's snowy plume?The landscape saddens into deeper gloom.?But yet ere many moons have flung to lea,?To begging billows of the hungry sea,?Their generous gold--like oriental queens--?A change will pass o'er all these wintry scenes;?There'll come the coronation of glad Spring,?Grander than any made for bride of king.
[Footnote 4: The statue was unveiled in a snow-storm.]

Earth's hodden grey will change to livelier hues?Enriched with pearl drops of the limpid dews;?Plenty will stand with her large tranquil eyes?To see her treasures o'er the landscape rise.?Thus may the lover of his country hope?To see again the Nation's spring-tide ope,?And freedom's harvest turn to ripened gold,?So that our world may give unto the old?Of its great opulence, as Joseph gave?Bread to his brothers when they came to crave.
But from his name I've paused too long you think??Yet he who stands beside Niagra's brink?Breaketh not forth at once of its grand strife;?'Tis thus I stand subdued by his great life--

And with his name a host of others rise,?Climbing like planets, Fame's eternal skies:?Great names, my Brothers! with such deeds allied?That all Virginians glow with filial pride--?That here the multitude shall daily pace?Around this statue's hero-circled base,?Thinking on those who, though long sunk in sleep,?Still round our camp the guard of sentries keep--?Who when a foe encroaches on our line,?Prompt the stern challenge for the countersign--?Who with proud memories feed our bright watch-fire?Which ne'er has faded, never will expire;?Grand benedictions, they in bronze will stand?To guard and consecrate our native land!?Great names are theirs! But his, like battle song,?In quicker current sends our blood along;?For at its music hearts throb quick and large,?Like those of horsemen thundering in the charge.?God's own Knight-Errant! There his figure stands!?Our souls are full--our bonnets in our hands!
When the fierce torrent--lava-like--of bronze?To mould this statue burst it furnace bonds,?When it out-thundered in its liquid flow,?With splendid flame and scintillating glow,?'Twas in its wild tumultuous throb and storm?Type of the age which moulded into form?The god-like character of him sublime,?Whose name is reared a statue for all time?In the great minster of the whole world's heart.

I've called his name a statue. Stern and vast?It rests enthroned upon the mighty past:?Fit plinth for him whose image in the mind?Looms up as that of one by God designed!?Fit plinth in sooth! the mighty past for him?Whose simple name is Glory's synonyme!?E'en Fancy's self, in her enchanted sleep,?Can dream no future which may cease to keep?His name in guard, like sentinel and cry?From Time's great bastions: "It shall never die."

His simple name a statue? Yes, and grand?'Tis reared in this and every other land.?Around its base a group more noble stands?Than e'er was carved by human sculptor's hands,?E'en though each form, like that of old should flush?With vivid beauty's animating blush--?Though dusky bronze, or pallid stone should thrill?With sudden life at some Pygmalion's will--?For these great figures, with his own enshrined,?Are seen, my Countrymen, by men, though blind.
There Valor fronts us with her storied shield,?Brave in devices won on many a field;?A splendid wreath snatched from the carnage grim?Is twined around that buckler's burnished rim,?And as we gaze, the brazen trumpets blare?With shrill vibration shakes the frightened air--?The roll of musketry--the clash of steel--?The clang of hoofs as charging squadrons wheel--?The hoarse command--the imprecative cry--?Swell loud and long, while Fancy's eager eye?Sees the stern van move on with crimson strides?Where Freedom's warrior on his war-horse rides,?Sees the great cannon flash out red and fast?Through battle mists which canopy the past.
And solemn-fronted Truth with earnest eyes,?Stands there serenely beautiful and wise;?Her stately form in undisturbed repose,?Rests by her well, where limpid crystal flows?While on her face, which can severely frown,?A smile is breaking as she gazes down;?For clearly marked upon that tranquil wave?Slumbers his image in a picture brave,?And leaning on the fountain's coping stone,?She scarce can tell his shadow from her own.
And Wisdom, with her meditative gaze,?Beside its base her mighty chart displays;?There with her solemn and impressive hand?Writes as she stoops--as Christ wrote on the sand--?But what she traces all may read--'tis this:?An invocation by our dreams of bliss--?By hopes to do and by our great deeds done,?The war of sections thro'