Part 22

The Spirit of the Present.

And now from France and England Their dearest and their best Go forth to succour freedom, To help the much oppressed; Now, let the far-off Future And Past bow down to-day, Before the few young hearts that hold Whole armaments at bay.

The Spirit of the Past.

Then, each one strove for honour, Each for a deathless name; Love, home, rest, joy, were offered As sacrifice to Fame. They longed that in far ages Their deeds might still be told, And distant times and nations Their names in honour hold.

The Spirit of the Present.

Though nursed by such old legends, Our heroes of to-day Go cheerfully to battle As children go to play; They gaze with awe and wonder On your great names of pride, Unconscious that their own will shine In glory side by side!

Day dawned; and as the Spirits passed away, Methought I saw, in the dim morning grey, The Past's bright diadem had paled before The starry crown the glorious Present wore.

VERSE: A LITTLE LONGER

A little longer yet--a little longer, Shall violets bloom for thee, and sweet birds sing; And the lime branches where soft winds are blowing, Shall murmur the sweet promise of the Spring!

A little longer yet--a little longer, Thou shalt behold the quiet of the morn; While tender grasses and awakening flowers Send up a golden mist to greet the dawn!

A little longer yet--a little longer, The tenderness of twilight shall be thine, The rosy clouds that float o'er dying daylight, Nor fade till trembling stars begin to shine.

A little longer yet--a little longer, Shall starry night be beautiful for thee; And the cold moon shall look through the blue silence, Flooding her silver path upon the sea.

A little longer yet--a little longer, Life shall be thine; life with its power to will; Life with its strength to bear, to love, to conquer, Bringing its thousand joys thy heart to fill.

A little longer yet--a little longer, The voices thou hast loved shall charm thine ear; And thy true heart, that now beats quick to hear them, A little longer yet shall hold them dear.

A little longer yet--joy while thou mayest; Love and rejoice! for time has nought in store; And soon the darkness of the grave shall bid thee Love and rejoice and feel and know no more.

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A little longer still--Patience, Beloved: A little longer still, ere Heaven unroll The Glory, and the Brightness, and the Wonder, Eternal, and divine, that waits thy Soul!

A little longer ere Life true, immortal, (Not this our shadowy Life,) will be thine own; And thou shalt stand where winged Archangels worship, And trembling bow before the Great White Throne.

A little longer still, and Heaven awaits thee, And fills thy spirit with a great delight; Then our pale joys will seem a dream forgotten, Our Sun a darkness, and our Day a Night.

A little longer, and thy Heart, Beloved, Shall beat for ever with a Love divine; And joy so pure, so mighty, so eternal, No creature knows and lives, will then be thine.

A little longer yet--and angel voices Shall ring in heavenly chant upon thine ear; Angels and Saints await thee, and God needs thee: Beloved, can we bid thee linger here!

VERSE: GRIEF

An ancient enemy have I, And either he or I must die; For he never leaveth me, Never gives my soul relief, Never lets my sorrow cease, Never gives my spirit peace-- For mine enemy is Grief!

Pale he is, and sad and stern; And whene'er he cometh nigh, Blue and dim the torches burn, Pale and shrunk the roses turn; While my heart that he has pierced Many a time with fiery lance, Beats and trembles at his glance: Clad in burning steel is he, All my strength he can defy; For he never leaveth me-- And one of us must die!

I have said, "Let ancient sages Charm me from my thoughts of pain!" So I read their deepest pages, And I strove to think--in vain! Wisdom's cold calm words I tried, But he was seated by my side:- Learning I have won in vain; She cannot rid me of my pain.

When at last soft sleep comes o'er me, A cold hand is on my heart; Stern sad eyes are there before me; Not in dreams will he depart: And when the same dreary vision From my weary brain has fled, Daylight brings the living phantom, He is seated by my bed, Bending o'er me all the while, With his cruel, bitter smile, Ever with me, ever nigh;-- And either he or I must die!

Then I said, long time ago, "I will flee to other climes, I will leave mine ancient foe!" Though I wandered far and wide-- Still he followed at my side.

And I fled where the blue waters Bathe the sunny isles of Greece; Where Thessalian mountains rise Up against the purple skies; Where a haunting memory liveth In each wood and cave and rill; But no dream of gods could help me-- He went with me still!