Songs of the Sierras and sunlands (two volumes in one)

Front matter

JJ^

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.

Songs of the Sierras and sunlands

II. What strange, strong, bearded men are these

He led toward the tropic seas!

Men sometimes of uncommon birth,

Men rich in histories untold,

Who boasted not, though more than bold,

Blown from the four parts of the earth.

Men mighty-thew'd as Samson was. That had been kings in any cause, A remnant of the races past; Dark-brow'd as if in iron cast, Broad-breasted as twin gates of brass, — Men strangely brave and fiercely true. Who dared the West when giants were. Who err'd, yet bravely dared to err; A remnant of that early few Who held no crime or curse or vice As dark as that of cowardice;

With blendings of the worst and best Of faults and virtues that have blest Or cursed or thrill'd the human breast.

They rode, a troop of bearded men, Rode two and two out from the town. And some were blonde and some were brown, And all as brave as Sioux; but when From San Bennetto south the line That bound them in the laws of man Was pass'd, and peace stood mute behind And stream'd a banner to the wind The world knew not, there was a sign Of awe, of silence, rear and van.

Men thought who never thought before; I heard the clang and clash of steel From sword at hand or spur at heel And iron feet, but nothing more. Some thought of Texas, some of Maine, But one of rugged Tennessee, — And one of Avon thought, and one Thought of an isle beneath the sun, And one of Wabash, one of Spain, And one turn'd sadly to the Spree,

Defeat meant something more than death; The world was ready, keen to smite, As stern and still beneath its ban With iron will and bated breath, Their hands against their fellow-man, They rode — each man an Ishmaelite. But when we struck the hills of pine. These men dismounted, doff'd their cares, Talk'd loud and laugh'd old love affairs. And on the grass took meat and wine, And never gave a thought again To land or life that lay behind, Or love, or care of any kind Beyond the present cross or pain,

And I, a waif of stormy seas, A child among such men as these, Was blown along this savage surf And rested with them on the turf, And took delight below the trees. I did not question, did not care To know the right or wrong. I saw That savage freedom had a spell. And loved it more than I can tell. And snapp'd my fingers at the law.

I bear my burden of the shame, — I shun it not, and naught forget. However much I may regret: I claim some candor to my name,

And courage cannot change or die, — Did they deserve to die? they died. Let justice then be satisfied. And as for me, why, what am I ?

The standing side by side till death, The dying for some wounded friend. The faith that failed not to the end. The strong endurance till the breath And body took their ways apart, I only know. I keep my trust. Their vices! earth has them by heart. Their virtues! they are with their dust.

How wound we through the solid wood. With all its broad boughs hung in green, With lichen mosses trail'd between! How waked the spotted beasts of prey, Deep sleeping from the face of day, And dashed them like a troubled flood Down some defile and denser wood!

And snakes, long, lithe and beautiful As green and graceful bough'd bamboo. Did twist and twine them through and through The boughs that hung red-fruited full. One, monster-sized, above me hung, Close eyed me with his bright pink eyes, Then raised his folds, and sway'd and swung, And lick'd like lightning his red tongue. Then oped his wide mouth with surprise; He writhed and curved and raised and low-

er'd His folds like liftings of the tide. And sank so low I touch'd his side, As I rode by, with my bright sword.

The trees shook hands high overhead. And bow'd and intertwined across The narrow way, while leaves and moss And luscious fruit, gold-hued and red, Through all the canopy of green. Let not one sunshaft shoot between.

Birds hung and swung, green-robed and red.

Or droop'd in curved lines dreamily,

Rainbows reversed, from tree to tree, Or sang low hanging overhead — Sang low, as if they sang and slept, Sang faint like some far waterfall, And took no note of us at all. Though nuts that in the way were spread Did crush and crackle as we stept.

Wild lilies, tall as maidens are. As sweet of breath, as pearly fair As fair as faith, as pure as truth, Fell thick before our every tread. In fragrant sacrifice to ruth. The ripen'd fruit a fragrance shed And hung in hand-reach overhead, In nest of blossoms on the shoot, The bending shoot that bore the fruit.

How ran lithe monkeys through the

leaves !

How rush'd they through, brown clad and

blue, Like shuttles hurried through and through The threads a hasty weaver weaves!

How quick they cast us fruits of gold.

WITH WALKER IN NICAEAGUA. 37

Then loosen'd hand and all foothold, And hung limp, limber, as if dead. Hung low and listless overhead; And all the time with half-oped eyes Bent full on us in mute surprise — Look'd wisely, too, as wise hens do That watch you with the head askew.

The long day through from blossom'd trees There came the sweet song of sweet bees. With chorus-tones of cockatoo That slid his beak along the bough, And walk'd and talk'd and hung and swung, In crown of gold and coat of blue, The wisest fool that ever sung. Or had a crown, or held a tongue.

Oh '.when we broke the somber wood And pierced at last the sunny plain. How wild and still with wonder stood The proud mustangs with banner'd mane. And necks thaj: never knew a rein, And nostrils lifted high, and blown, Fierce breathing as a hurricane: Yet by their leader held the while

In solid column, square, and file

And ranks more martial than our own !

Some one above the common kind, Some one to look to, lean upon, I think is much a woman's mind; But it was mine, and I had drawn A rein beside the chief while we Rode through the forest leisurely; When he grew kind and question'd me Of kindred, home, and home affair. Of how I came to wander there, And had my father herds and land And men in hundreds at command? At which I silent shook my head, Then, timid, met his eyes and said, "Not so. Where sunny-foot hills run Down to the North Pacific sea. And Willamette meets the sun In many angles, patiently My father tends his flocks of snow. And turns alone the mellow sod And sows some fields not over broad. And mourns my long delay in vain, Nor bids one serve-man come or go; '

While mother from her wheel or churn, And may be from the milking shed, There lifts an humble, weary head To watch and wish her boy's return Across the camas' blossom'd plain."

He held his bent head very low, A sudden sadness in his air; Then turn'd and touch'd my yellow hair And took the long locks in his hand, Toy'd with them, smiled, and let them go. Then thrumm'd about his saddle bow As thought ran swift across his face; Then turning sudden from his place.

He gave some short and quick command. They brought the best Steed of the band.

They swung a bright sword at my side,

He bade me mount and by him ride,

And from that hour to the end

I never felt the need of friend.

Far in the wildest quinine wood We found a city old— so old. Its very walls were turn'd to mould, And stately trees upon them stood.

No history has mention'd it,

No map has given it a place;

The last dim trace of tribe and race —

The world's forgetfulness is fit.

It held one structure grand and moss'd, Mighty as any castle sung, And old when oldest Ind was young, With threshold Christian never cross'd; A temple builded to the sun, Along whose sombre altar-stone Brown bleeding virgins had been strown Like leaves, when leaves are crisp and dun, In ages ere the Sphinx was born, Or Babylon had birth or morn. My chief led up the marble step — He ever led, broad blade in hand — When down the stones, with double hand Clutched to his sword, a Sun priest leapt. Hot bent to barter life for life. The chieftain drove his bowie knife, Full through his thick and broad breast-bone. And broke the point against the stone, The dark stone of the temple wall. I saw him loose his hold and fall

Full length with head hung down the step;

I saw run down a ruddy flood

Of awful, pulsing human blood.

Then from the crowd a woman crept

And kiss'd the gory hands and face,

And smote herself. Then one by one

The dark crowd crept and did the same,

Then bore the dead man from the place.

Down darken'd aisles the brown priests came,

So picture-like, with sandall'd feet

And long, grey, dismal, grass-wove gowns,

So like the pictures of old time.

And stood all still and dark of frowns.

At blood upon the stone and street.

So we laid ready hand to sword And boldly spoke some bitter word; But they were stubborn still, and stood Fierce frowning as a winter wood. And mutt'ring something of the crime Of blood upon a temple stone. As if the first that it had known.

We turn'd toward the massive door With clash of steel at heel, and with

Some swords all red and ready drawn. I traced the sharp edge of my sword Along the marble wall and floor For crack or crevice; there was none. From one vast mount of marble stone The mighty temple had been cored By nut-brown children of the sun, When stars were newly bright and blithe Of song along the rim of dawn, A mighty marble monolith!

*****

III

Through marches through the mazy wood, And may be through too much of blood. At last we came down to the seas. A city stood, white wall'd, and brown With age, in nest of orange trees; And this we won and many a town And rancho reaching up and down. Then rested in the red-hot days Beneath the blossom'd orange trees,

Made drowsy with the drum of bees, And drank in peace the south-sea breeze, Made sweet with sweeping boughs of bays.

Well! there were maidens, shy at first, And then, ere long, not over shy. Yet pure of soul and proudly chare. No love on earth has such an eye! No land there is, is bless'd or curs'd With such a limb or grace of face, Or gracious form, or genial air! In all the bleak North-land not one Hath been so warm of soul to me As coldest soul by that warm sea, Beneath the bright hot centred sun.

?' No lands where northern ices are

Approach, or ever dare compare

With warm loves born beneath the sun,

The one the cold white steady star.

The lifted shifting sun the one.

I grant you fond, I grant you fair,

I grant you honor, trust and truth.

And years as beautiful as youth.

And many years beneath the sun,

And faith as fix'd as any star;

But all the North-land hath not one

So warm of soul as sun-maids are.

I was but in my boyhood then, I count my fingers over, so, And find it years and years ago, And I am scarcely yet of men, But I was tall and lithe and fair, With rippled tide of yellow hair, And prone to mellowness of heart; While she was tawny-red like wine, With black hair boundless as the night, As for the rest I knew my part, At least was apt, and willing quite To learn, to listen, and incline To teacher warm and wise as mine.

O bright, bronzed maidens of the Sun! So fairer far to look upon Than curtains of the Solomon, Or Kedar's tents, or any one, Or any thing beneath the sun! What foUow'd then? What has been done, And said, and writ, and read, and sung?

WITH WALKER IN NICARAGUA. 4S

What will be writ and read again, While love is life, and life remain?— While maids will heed, and men have tongue?

What foUow'd then? But let that pass. I hold one picture in my heart, Hung curtain'd, and not any part Of all its dark tint ever has Been look'd upon by any one Beneath the broad all-seeing sun.

Love well who will, love wise who can, But love, be loved, for God is love; Love pure, like cherubim above; Love maids, and hate not any man. Sit as sat we by orange tree. Beneath the broad bough and grape-vine Top-tangled in the tropic shine. Close face to face, close to the sea. And full of the red-centred sun. With grand sea-songs upon the soul, Roll'd melody on melody.

Like echoes of deep organ's roll, And love, nor question anyone.

If God is love, is love not God? As high priests say, let prophets sing. Without reproach or reckoning; This much I say, knees knit to sod. And low voice lifted, questioning.

Let hearts be pure and strong and true, Let lips be luscious and blood-red. Let earth in gold be garmented And tented in her tent of blue. Let goodly rivers glide between Their leaning willow walls of green, Let all things be fill'd of the sun. And full of warm winds of the sea, And I beneath my vine and tree Take rest, nor war with any one; Then I will thank God with full cause. Say this is well, is as it was.

Let lips be red, for God has said Love is like one gold-garmented. And made them so for such a time. Therefore let lips be red, therefore Let love be ripe in ruddy prime. Let hope beat high, let hearts be true.

And you be wise thereat, and you Drink deep, and ask not any more.

Let red lips lift, proud curl'd to kiss, And round limbs lean and raise and reach In love too passionate for speech,

Too full of blessedness and bliss For anything but this and this; Let luscious lips lean hot to kiss And swoon in love, while all the air Is redolent with balm of trees. And mellow with the song of bees, While birds sit singing everywhere — And you will have not any more Than I in boyhood, by that shore Of olives, had in years of yore.

Let the unclean think things unclean; I swear tip-toed, with lifted hands. That we were pure as sea-wash'd sands. That not one coarse thought came between; Believe or disbelieve who will, Unto the pure all things are pure; As for the rest, I can endure Alike their good will or their ill.

Aye! she was rich in blood and gold — More rich in love, grown over-bold From its own consciousness of strength. How warm! Oh, not for any cause Could I declare how warm she was. In her brown beauty and hair's length. We loved in the sufficient sun. We lived in elements of fire, For love is fire and fierce desire; Yet lived as pure as priest and nun.

We lay slow rocking in the bay In birch canoe beneath the crags Thick-topp'd with palm, like sweeping flags Between us and the burning day. The alligator's head lay low Or lifted from his rich rank fern, And watch'd us and the tide by turn, As we slow cradled to and fro.

And slow we cradled on till night, And told the old tale, overtold, As misers in recounting gold Each time to take a new delight. With her pure passion-given grace She drew her warm self close to me;

WITH WALKER IN NICARAGUA. 4Q

And her two brown hands on my knee,

And her two black eyes in my face,

She then grew sad and guess'd at ill,

And in the future seem'd to see

With woman's ken of prophecy;

Yet proffer'd her devotion still.

And plaintive so she gave a sign,

A token cut of virgin gold,

That all her tribe should ever hold

Its wearer as some one divine,

Nor touch him with a hostile hand.

And I in turn gave her a blade,

A dagger, worn as well by maid

As man, in that half lawless land.

It had a massive silver hilt.

It had a keen and cunning blade,

A gift by chief and comrades made

For reckless blood at Rivas split.

** Show this," said I, " too well 'tis known.

And worth a hundred lifted spears,

Should ill beset your sunny years;

There is not one in Walker's band.

But at the sight of this alone.

Will reach a brave and ready hand,

And make your right or wrong his own." 4

IV

Love while 'tis day; night cometh soon, Wherein no man or maiden may; Love in the strong young prime of day; Drink drunk with love in ripe red noon, Red noon of love and life and sun; Walk in love's light as in sunshine, Drink in that sun as drinking wine, Drink swift, nor question any one; For loves change sure as man or moon, And wane like warm full days of June.

Oh Love, so fair of promises, Bend here thy brow, blow here thy kiss_. Bend here thy bow above the storm But once, if only this once more. Comes there no patient Christ to save, Touch and re-animate thy form Long three days dead and in the grave? Spread here thy silken net of jet; Since man is false, since maids forget, Since man must fall for some sharp sin, Be thou the pit that I fall in;

I seek no safer fall than this. Since man must die for some dark sin, Blind leading blind, let come to this. And my death crime be one deep kiss.

V. Ill comes disguised in many forms

Fair winds are but a prophecy

Of foulest winds full soon to be —

The brighter these, the blacker they;

The clearest night has darkest day,

And brightest days bring blackest storms.

There came reverses to o-ur arms;

I saw the signal-light's alarms

At night red-crescenting the bay.

The foe pour'd down a flood next day

As strong as tides when tides are high.

And drove us bleeding to the sea.

In such wild haste of flight that we

Had hardly time to arm and fly.

Blown from the shore, borne far a-sea, I lifted my two hands on high

With wild soul plashing to the sky, And cried, *'0 more than crowns to me, Farewell at last to love and thee!" I walk'd the deck, I kiss'd my hand Back to the far and fading shore, And bent a knee as to implore. Until the last dark head of land Slid down behind the dimpled sea. At last I sank in troubled sleep, A very child, rock'd by the deep, Sad questioning the fate of her Before the savage conqueror.

The loss of comrades, power, place, A city wall'd, cool shaded ways. Cost me no care at all; somehow I only saw her sad brown face, And — I was younger then than now.

Red flashed the sun across the deck, Slow flapp'd the idle sails, and slow The black ship cradled to and fro. Afar my city lay, a speck Of white against a line of blue; Around, half lounging on the deck.

Some comrades chatted two by two. I held a new-fill'd glass of wine, And with the mate talk'd as in play Of fierce events of yesterday, To coax his light life into mine.

He jerked the wheel, as slow he said, Low laughing with averted head. And so, half sad: "You bet they'll fight; They follow'd in canim, canoe, A perfect fleet, that on the blue Lay dancing till the mid of night. Would you believe! one little cuss" — (He turn'd his stout head slow sidewise. And 'neath his hat-rim took the skies) — *Tn petticoats did follow us The livelong night, and at the dawn Her boat lay rocking in the lee, Scarce one short pistol-shot from me." This said the mate, half mournfully, Then peck'd at us; for he had drawn. By bright light heart and homely wit, A knot of us around the wheel. Which he stood whirling like a reel, For the still ship reck'd not of it.

" And Where's she now? " one careless said, With eyes slow lifting to the brine, Swift swept the instant far b)^ mine; The bronzed mate listed, shook his head. Spirted a stream of amber wide Across and over the ship side, Jerk'd at the wheel, and slow replied

" She had a dagger in her hand, She rose, she raised it, tried to stand, But fell, and so upset herself; Yet still the poor brown savage elf. Each time the long light wave would toss And lift her form from out the sea. Would shake a strange bright blade at me. With rich hilt chased a cunning cross. At last she sank, but still the same She shook her dagger in the air. As if to still defy and dare. And sinking seem'd to call your name."

I let my wine glass crashing fall, I rush'd across the deck, and all The sea I swept and swept again. With lifted hand, with eye and glass.

But all was idle and in vain. I saw a red-bill'd sea-gull pass, A petrel sweeping round and round, I heard the far white sea-surf sound. But no sign could I hear or see Of one so more than seas to me.

I cursed the ship, the shore, the sea, The brave brown mate, the bearded men; I had a fever then, and then Ship, shore and sea were one to me; And weeks we on the dead waves lay, And I more truly dead than they. At last some rested on an isle; The few strong-breasted, with a smile. Returning to the hostile shore. Scarce counting of the pain or cost. Scarce recking if they won or lost; They sought but action, ask'd no more; They counted life but as a game, With full per cent, against them, and Staked all upon a single hand. And lost or won, content the same.

I never saw my chief again, I never sought again the shore.

Or saw my white-wall'd city more. I could not bear the more than pain At sight of blossom'd orange trees Or blended song of birds .and bees, The sweeping shadows of the palm • Or spicy breath of bay and balm. And, striving to forget the while, I wander'd through the dreary isle, Here black with juniper, and there Made white with goats in shaggy coats. The only things that anywhere We found with life in all the land. Save birds that ran long-bill'd and brown, Long legg'd and still as shadows are. Like dancing shadows up and down The sea-rim on the swelt'ring sand.

The warm sea laid his dimpled face, With all his white locks smoothed in place. As if asleep against the land; Great turtles slept upon his breast. As thick as eggs in any nest; I could have touch'd them with my hand.

VI. I WOULD some things were dead and hid

Well dead and buried deep as hell, With recollection dead as well, And resurrection God-forbid. They irk me with their weary spell Of fascination, eye to eye, And hot mesmeric serpent hiss. Through all the dull eternal days. Let them turn by, go on their ways, Let them depart or let me die; For life is but a beggar's lie. And as for death, I grin at it; I do not care one whiff or whit Whether it be or that or this.

I give my hand; the world is wide; Then farewell memories of yore, Between us let strife be no more; Turn as you choose to either side; Say, Fare-you-well, shake hands and say — Speak loud, and say with stately grace, Hand clutching hand, face bent to face- Farewell forever and a day.

O passion-toss'd and bleeding past, Part now, part well, part wide apart,

As ever ships on ocean slid

Down, down the sea, hull, sail and mast:

And in the album of my heart

Let hide the pictures of your face,

With other pictures in their place,

Slid over like a coffin's lid.

VII

The days and grass grow long together; They now fell short and crisp again, And all the fair face of the main Grew dark and wrinkled as the weather. Through all the summer sun's decline Fell news of triumphs and defeats, Of hard advances, hot retreats — Then days and days and not a line.

At last one night they came. I knew Ere yet the boat had touch'd the land That all was lost; they were so few I near could count them on one hand; But he, the leader, led no more. The proud chief still disdain'd to fly,

But like one wreck'd, clung to the shore, And struggled on, and struggling fell From power to a prison-cell, And only left that cell to die.

My recollection, like a ghost, Goes from this sea to that sea-side, Goes and returns as turns the tide. Then turns again unto the coast. I know not which I mourn the most, My chief or my unwedded wife. The one was as the lordly sun, To joy in, bask in, and admire; The peaceful moon was as the one. To love, to look to, and desire; And both a part of my young life.