From talk of battles loud and vain.

And brawling memories all too free
For such a wise humility

As befits a solemn fane:

We revere, and while we hear
The tides of Music's golden sea
Setting toward eternity,

Uplifted high in heart and hope are we,
Until we doubt not that for one so true
There must be other nobler work to do
Than when he fought at Waterloo,
And Victor he must ever be.

For tho' the Giant Ages heave the hill
And break the shore, and evermore
Make and break, and work their will;
Tho' world on world in myriad myriads roll
Round us, each with different powers,
And other forms of life than ours,
What know we greater than the soul?

On God and Godlike men we build our trust.

Hush, the Dead March wails in the people's ears:
The dark crowd moves, and there are sobs and tears :
The black earth yawns: the mortal disappears ;

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust ;

He is gone who seem'd so great.
Gone; but nothing can bereave him
Of the force he made his own
Being here, and we believe him
Something far advanced in state,
And that he wears a truer crown

Than any wreath that man can weave him.
But speak no more of his renown,

Lay your earthly fancies down,

And in the vast cathedral leave him.

God accept him, Christ receive him.

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THE VOYAGE.

I.

WE left behind the painted buoy
That tosses at the harbor-mouth;
And madly danced our hearts with joy,
As fast we fleeted to the South:
How fresh was every sight and sound
On open main or winding shore!
We knew the merry world was round,
And we might sail for evermore.

II.

Warm broke the breeze against the brow,
Dry sang the tackle, sang the sail :
The Lady's-head upon the prow

Caught the shrill salt, and sheer'd the gale.
The broad seas swell'd to meet the keel,

And swept behind; so quick the run,

We felt the good ship shake and reel,
We seem'd to sail into the sun!

III.

How oft we saw the sun retire,

And burn the threshold of the night, Fall from his ocean-lane of fire,

And sleep beneath his pillar'd light! How oft the purple-skirted robe

Of twilight slowly downward drawn, As thro' the slumber of the globe

Again we dash'd into the dawn!

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IV.

New stars all night above the brim
Of waters lighten'd into view;
They climb'd as quickly, for the rim
Changed every moment as we flew.
Far ran the naked moon across
The houseless ocean's heaving field,
Or flying shone, the silver boss

Of her own halo's dusky shield;

V.

The peaky islet shifted shapes,

High towns on hills were dimly seen, We pass'd long lines of Northern capes

And dewy Northern meadows green. We came to warmer waves, and deep Across the boundless east we drove, Where those long swells of breaker sweep The nutmeg rocks and isles of clove.

VI.

By peaks that flamed, or, all in shade,
Gloom'd the low coast and quivering brine
With ashy rains, that spreading made
Fantastic plume or sable pine;
By sands and steaming flats, and floods.
Of mighty mouth, we scudded fast,
And hills and scarlet-mingled woods
Glow'd for a moment as we past.

VII.

O hundred shores of happy climes,

How swiftly stream'd ye by the bark! At times the whole sea burn'd, at times

With wakes of fire we tore the dark;

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At times a carven craft would shoot
From havens hid in fairy bowers,
With naked limbs and flowers and fruit,
But we nor paused for fruit nor flowers.

VIII.

For one fair Vision ever fled

Down the waste waters day and night,
And still we follow'd where she led,
In hope to gain upon her flight.
Her face was evermore unseen,
And fixt upon the far sea-line;
But each man murmur'd, 'O my Queen,
I follow till I make thee mine.'

IX.

And now we lost her, now she gleam'd
Like Fancy made of golden air,
Now nearer to the prow she seem'd

Like Virtue firm, like Knowledge fair,

Now high on waves that idly burst

Like Heavenly Hope she crown'd the sea,

And now, the bloodless point reversed,
She bore the blade of Liberty.

X.

And only one among us - him

We pleased not he was seldom pleased:

He saw not far: his eyes were dim:

But ours he swore were all diseased.

'A ship of fools,' he shriek'd in spite,
A ship of fools,' he sneer'd and wept.
And overboard one stormy night

He cast his body, and on we swept.

XI.

And never sail of ours was furl'd,
Nor anchor dropt at eve or morn;
We loved the glories of the world,

But laws of nature were our scorn.
For blasts would rise and rave and cease,
But whence were those that drove the sail
Across the whirlwind's heart of peace,
And to and thro' the counter gale?