Pike County Ballads | Page 6

is breaking
On the great pale Arch of the Star,
And back
o'er the town shall fly,
While the joy-bells wild are ringing,
To
crown the Glory springing
From the Column of July!
THE SPHINX OF THE TUILERIES.
Out of the Latin Quarter
I came to the lofty door
Where the two
marble Sphinxes guard
The Pavillon de Flore.
Two Cockneys stood
by the gate, and one
Observed, as they turned to go,
"No wonder He
likes that sort of thing, -
He's a Sphinx himself, you know."
I thought as I walked where the garden glowed
In the sunset's level
fire,
Of the Charlatan whom the Frenchmen loathe
And the
Cockneys all admire.
They call him a Sphinx,--it pleases him, -
And
if we narrowly read,
We will find some truth in the flunkey's praise, -

The man is a Sphinx indeed.
For the Sphinx with breast of woman
And face so debonair
Had the
sleek false paws of a lion,
That could furtively seize and tear.
So far
to the shoulders,--but if you took
The Beast in reverse you would find

The ignoble form of a craven cur
Was all that lay behind.
She lived by giving to simple folk
A silly riddle to read,

And when
they failed she drank their blood
In cruel and ravenous greed.
But at
last came one who knew her word,
And she perished in pain and
shame, -
This bastard Sphinx leads the same base life
And his end
will be the same.

For an OEdipus-People is coming fast
With swelled feet limping on,

If they shout his true name once aloud
His false foul power is gone.

Afraid to fight and afraid to fly,
He cowers in an abject shiver;

The people will come to their own at last, -
God is not mocked for
ever.
THE SURRENDER OF SPAIN.
I.
Land of unconquered Pelayo! land of the Cid Campeador!

Sea-girdled mother of men! Spain, name of glory and power;
Cradle
of world-grasping Emperors, grave of the reckless invader, How art
thou fallen, my Spain! how art thou sunk at this hour!
II.
Once thy magnanimous sons trod, victors, the portals of Asia,
Once the Pacific waves rushed, joyful thy banners to see;
For it was
Trajan that carried the battle-flushed eagles to Dacia, Cortes that
planted thy flag fast by the uttermost sea.
III.
Hast thou forgotten those days illumined with glory and honour,
When the far isles of the sea thrilled to the tread of Castile? When
every land under Heaven was flecked by the shade of thy banner, -
When every beam of the sun flashed on thy conquering steel?
IV.
Then through red fields of slaughter, through death and defeat
and disaster,
Still flared thy banner aloft, tattered, but free from a
stain, - Now to the upstart Savoyard thou bendest to beg for a master!
How the red flush of her shame mars the proud beauty of Spain!
V.
Has the red blood run cold that boiled by the Xenil and Darro? Are
the high deeds of the sires sung to the children no more? On the dun
hills of the North hast thou heard of no plough-boy Pizarro? Roams no
young swine-herd Cortes hid by the Tagus' wild shore?
VI.
Once again does Hispania bend low to the yoke of the stranger!
Once again will she rise, flinging her gyves in the sea!
Princeling of
Piedmont! unwitting thou weddest with doubt and with danger,
King

over men who have learned all that it costs to be free.
THE PRAYER OF THE ROMANS.
Not done, but near its ending,
Is the work that our eyes desired;
Not
yet fulfilled, but near the goal,
Is the hope that our worn hearts fired.

And on the Alban Mountains,
Where the blushes of dawn increase,

We see the flash of the beautiful feet
Of Freedom and of Peace!
How long were our fond dreams baffled! -
Novara's sad mischance,

The Kaiser's sword and fetter-lock,
And the traitor stab of France;

Till at last came glorious Venice,
In storm and tempest home;
And
now God maddens the greedy kings,
And gives to her people Rome.
Lame Lion of Caprera!
Red-shirts of the lost campaigns!
Not idly
shed was the costly blood
You poured from generous veins.
For the
shame of Aspromonte,
And the stain of Mentana's sod,
But forged
the curse of kings that sprang
From your breaking hearts to God!
We lift our souls to Thee, O Lord
Of Liberty and of Light!
Let not
earth's kings pollute the work
That was done in their despite;
Let
not Thy light be darkened
In the shade of a sordid crown,
Nor
pampered swine devour the fruit
Thou shook'st with an earthquake
down!
Let the People come to their birthright,
And crosier and crown pass
away
Like phantasms that flit o'er the marshes
At the glance of the
clean, white day.
And then from the lava of AEtna
To the ice of the
Alps let there be
One freedom, one faith without fetters,
One
republic in Italy free!
THE CURSE OF HUNGARY.
King Saloman looked from his donjon bars,
Where the Danube
clamours through sedge and sand,
And he cursed with a curse his

revolting land, -
With a king's deep curse of treason and wars.
He said: "May this false land know