Stanzas

She calmly brought his sabre bright, Tempered with death; And, girding him, her all, aright, She spoke with eyes of kindling light More than tongue uttereth. And then she waved farewell at last, With grief struck dumb, As bannered squadrons hurried past, And bugles with imperious blast Stammered delirium. It was not hard to charge abreast On trembling slopes,— Alone, at Honor's stern behest, To cross the red, infernal crest That barred his people's hopes. But man might quail to face her fate: Distraught by fears, To wake from troubled dreams, and wait The midnight courier at the gate, Through slow, ensanguined years;— To welcome grief for which were vain All anodyne; To dip into the cup of pain Her final crust and, smiling, drain The draught as generous wine. Would some Euripides could give, In words to bide, This later tragical reprieve, When our Alcestis dared to live While her Admetus died! By Rappahannock's moaning wave Mayhap he fell; At Shiloh, leading on the brave,— Or in some rifle-pit, his grave, Where raked the random shell;— Or, haply, where her presence bore That grim, gray line At Gettysburg, all barriers o'er, Like a ninth wave on an iron shore, Which ebbs by will divine. Perchance his tomb in the old church-yard Knew her caress; It may be, where his form lay charred On fire-swept wolds, the owl kept ward In the dark Wilderness. Still, though, recumbent in the hall Of memory laid, And limned upon its mournful wall, He dwelt with her in spirit by all The bolts of death unstayed;— Dwelt in his sons, whose faith profound Saw, throned afar, The proud South, once in shackles bound, Upon whose brow with glory crowned Glittered the morning star. The canvas can not hold her grace: Its colors warm The damps of centuries erase; Yet o'er the scathing years her face Will live beyond all harm. Nor bronze nor stone shall bear her name Through time to-be: These may be touched by frost or flame And sink in ruin, while her fame Is for eternity. Nor yet may story guard the trust, Nor song divine; They, like their builders, turn to dust:— Beyond corrupting moth and rust Stands, veiled with light, her shrine. And Love will keep it, Love alone, Safe from decay,— Love wherewith God himself is one,— When time's rule shall be overthrown, And earth shall pass away.