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That immortal house, more than all the rows of dwellings ever built!

Or white-domed Capitol itself, with the majestic figure surmounted-or all the old high-spired cathedrals, That little house alone, more than them all-poor, desperate house!

Fair, fearful wreck! tenement of a Soul! itself a Soul! Unclaim'd, avoided house! take one breath from my tremulous lips;

Take one tear, dropt aside as I go, for thought of

you,

Dead house of love! house of madness and sin, crumbled! crush'd!

House of life-erewhile talking and laughing—but ah, poor house! dead, even then;

Months, years, an echoing, garnish'd house-but dead, dead, dead.

THE MYSTIC TRUMPETER.

1.

HARK! Some wild trumpeter-some strange musician,
Hovering unseen in air, vibrates capricious tunes to-night.

I hear thee, trumpeter! listening, alert, I catch thy notes,
Now pouring, whirling like a tempest round me,
Now low, subdued-now in the distance lost.

2.

Come nearer, bodiless one! haply in thee resounds
Some dead composer-haply thy pensive life'
Was fill'd with aspirations high-unform'd ideals,
Waves, oceans musical, chaotically surging,

That now, ecstatic ghost! close to me bending, thy cornet echoing, pealing,

Gives out to no one's ears but mine-but freely gives to

mine,

That I may thee translate.

3.

Blow, trumpeter! free and clear-I follow thee,
While at thy liquid prelude, glad, serene,

The fretting world, the streets, the noisy hours of day, withdraw;

A holy calm descends, like dew upon me;

I walk, in cool refreshing night, the walks of Paradise,
I scent the grass, the moist air, and the roses;

Thy song expands my numb'd, imbonded spirit—thou freëst, launchest me,

Floating and basking upon Heaven's lake.

4.

Blow again, trumpeter! and for my sensuous eyes,
Bring the old pageants-show the feudal world.

What charm thy music works!-thou makèst pass before

me,

Ladies and cavaliers long dead-barons are in their castle halls the troubadours are singing;

Arm'd knights go forth to redress wrongs-some in quest of the Holy Graal:

I see the tournament I see the contestants, encased in heavy armour, seated on stately, champing horses; I hear the shouts-the sounds of blows and smiting steel: I see the Crusaders' tumultuous armies-Hark! how the cymbals clang!

Lo! where the monks walk in advance, bearing the Cross on high!

5.

Blow again, trumpeter! and for thy theme,

Take now the enclosing theme of all—the solvent and the setting;

Love, that is pulse of all-the sustenance and the pang; The heart of man and woman all for love;

No other theme but love-knitting, enclosing, all-iffusing love.

O, how the immortal phantoms crowd around me!

I see the vast alembic ever working-I see and know the flames that heat the world;

The glow, the blush, the beating hearts of lovers,

So blissful happy some and some so silent, dark, and nigh to death.

Love, that is all the earth to lovers-Love, that mocks time and space;

Love that is day and night-Love, that is sun and moon

and stars;

Love, that is crimson, sumptuous, sick with perfume;

No other words, but words of love-no other thought but Love.

6.

Blow again, trumpeter! conjure war's wild alarums!

Swift to thy spell, a shuddering hum like distant thunder rolls;

Lo! where the arm'd men hasten-lo! 'mid the clouds of dust, the glint of bayonets;

I see the grime-faced cannoniers-I mark the rosy flash amid the smoke-I hear the cracking of the guns: --Nor war alone-thy fearful music-song, wild player! brings every sight of fear,

The deeds of ruthless brigands—rapine, murder—I hear the cries for help!

I see ships foundering at sea-I behold on deck, and below deck, the terrible tableaux.

7.

O trumpeter! methinks I am myself the instrument thou playest!

Thou melt'st my heart, my brain-thou movèst, drawest, changèst them, at will:

And now thy sullen notes send darkness through me;

Thou takèst away all cheering light-all hope:

I see the enslaved, the overthrown, the hurt, the oppress'd of the whole earth;

I feel the measureless shame and humiliation of my raceit becomes all mine;

Mine too the revenges of humanity—the wrongs of ages— baffled feuds and hatreds;

Utter defeat upon me weighs-all lost! the foe victorious! (Yet 'mid the ruins Pride colossal stands, unshaken to the last;

Endurance, resolution, to the last.)

8.

Now, trumpeter! for thy close,

Vouchsafe a higher strain than any yet;

Sing to my soul-renew its languishing faith and hope; Rouse up my slow belief-give me some vision of the future; Give me, for once, its prophecy and joy.

O glad, exulting, culminating song!

A vigour more than earth's is in thy notes!

Marches of victory-man disenthrall'd-the conqueror at last!

Hymns to the universal God, from universal Man-all joy! A reborn race appears a perfect World, all joy!

Women and Men, in wisdom, innocence, and health,—all joy!

Riotous, laughing bacchanals, fill'd with joy!

War, sorrow, suffering gone the rank earth purgednothing but joy left!

The ocean fill'd with joy-the atmosphere all joy!

Joy! Joy! in freedom, worship, love! Joy in the ecstasy of life!

Enough to merely be! Enough to breathe!

Joy! Joy! all over Joy!

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BATTLE HYMN OF THE_REPUBLIC.*

MINE eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord : He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored;

He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword:

His truth is marching on.

Glory! glory, hallelujah!

Glory! glory! glory, hallelujah!
Glory! glory, hallelujah!

His truth is marching on.

I have seen Him in the watch-fires of a hundred circling camps;

They have builded Him an altar in the evening dews and damps;

I can read His righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps:

His day is marching on.

Glory! glory, hallelujah!—

I have read a fiery gospel writ in burnish'd rows of steel: As ye deal with my contemners, so with you my grace shall deal:

Let the hero born of woman crush the serpent with his heel!

Since God is marching on.

Glory! glory, hallelujah!——

He hath sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat;

He is sifting out the hearts of men before His judgment seat:

O, be swift, my soul! to answer Him; be jubilant, my feet! Our God is marching on.

Glory! glory, hallelujah!

* See Note 24.

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