him undeceived.
Aware that all imagining?Of more than what she meant?Would urge an end of everything,?He stayed; and when he went,?They parted with a merry word?That was to him as light?As any that was ever heard?Upon a starry night.
She smiled a little, knowing well?That he would not remark?The ruins of a day that fell?Around her in the dark:?He saw no ruins anywhere,?Nor fancied there were scars?On anyone who lingered there,?Alone below the stars.
On the Way
(Philadelphia, 1794)
Note. -- The following imaginary dialogue between Alexander Hamilton and Aaron Burr, which is not based upon any specific incident in American history, may be supposed to have occurred a few months previous to Hamilton's retirement from Washington's Cabinet in 1795 and a few years before the political ingenuities of Burr -- who has been characterized, without much exaggeration,?as the inventor of American politics -- began to be conspicuously formidable to the Federalists. These activities on the part of Burr resulted, as the reader will remember, in the Burr-Jefferson tie for the Presidency in 1800, and finally in the Burr-Hamilton duel at Weehawken in 1804.
BURR
Hamilton, if he rides you down, remember?That I was here to speak, and so to save?Your fabric from catastrophe. That's good;?For I perceive that you observe him also.?A President, a-riding of his horse,?May dust a General and be forgiven;?But why be dusted -- when we're all alike,?All equal, and all happy. Here he comes --?And there he goes. And we, by your new patent,?Would seem to be two kings here by the wayside,?With our two hats off to his Excellency.?Why not his Majesty, and done with it??Forgive me if I shook your meditation,?But you that weld our credit should have eyes?To see what's coming. Bury me first if -I- do.
HAMILTON
There's always in some pocket of your brain?A care for me; wherefore my gratitude?For your attention is commensurate?With your concern. Yes, Burr, we are two kings;?We are as royal as two ditch-diggers;?But owe me not your sceptre. These are the days?When first a few seem all; but if we live,?We may again be seen to be the few?That we have always been. These are the days?When men forget the stars, and are forgotten.
BURR
But why forget them? They're the same that winked?Upon the world when Alcibiades?Cut off his dog's tail to induce distinction.?There are dogs yet, and Alcibiades?Is not forgotten.
HAMILTON
Yes, there are dogs enough,?God knows; and I can hear them in my dreams.
BURR
Never a doubt. But what you hear the most?Is your new music, something out of tune?With your intention. How in the name of Cain,?I seem to hear you ask, are men to dance,?When all men are musicians. Tell me that,?I hear you saying, and I'll tell you the name?Of Samson's mother. But why shroud yourself?Before the coffin comes? For all you know,?The tree that is to fall for your last house?Is now a sapling. You may have to wait?So long as to be sorry; though I doubt it,?For you are not at home in your new Eden?Where chilly whispers of a likely frost?Accumulate already in the air.?I think a touch of ermine, Hamilton,?Would be for you in your autumnal mood?A pleasant sort of warmth along the shoulders.
HAMILTON
If so it is you think, you may as well?Give over thinking. We are done with ermine.?What I fear most is not the multitude,?But those who are to loop it with a string?That has one end in France and one end here.?I'm not so fortified with observation?That I could swear that more than half a score?Among us who see lightning see that ruin?Is not the work of thunder. Since the world?Was ordered, there was never a long pause?For caution between doing and undoing.
BURR
Go on, sir; my attention is a trap?Set for the catching of all compliments?To Monticello, and all else abroad?That has a name or an identity.
HAMILTON
I leave to you the names -- there are too many;?Yet one there is to sift and hold apart,?As now I see. There comes at last a glimmer?That is not always clouded, or too late.?But I was near and young, and had the reins?To play with while he manned a team so raw?That only God knows where the end had been?Of all that riding without Washington.?There was a nation in the man who passed us,?If there was not a world. I may have driven?Since then some restive horses, and alone,?And through a splashing of abundant mud;?But he who made the dust that sets you on?To coughing, made the road. Now it seems dry,?And in a measure safe.
BURR
Here's a new tune?From Hamilton. Has your caution all at once,?And over night, grown till it wrecks the cradle??I have forgotten what my father said?When I was born, but there's a rustling of it?Among my memories, and it makes a noise?About as loud as all that I have held?And fondled heretofore of your same
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