Valeria and other poems

II

Cantata — Sung at the dedication of the Chicago Auditorium, December 9, 1889 . . .213

— ^Commemoration Ode — Read and sung at the dedicatory ceremonies of the World's Columbian Exposition, on the four-hundredth anniversary of the discovery of America 220

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III. Page

Our Lady of Art 237

From the Dark 241

Shadows 245

The Land of Love 246

With Folded Wings 248

A Pastel 250

IV. Dancing Song 253

Marriage Song 255

Slumber Song ........ 257

Love Song 258

To A Child 260

Love's Power 261

Au Revoir 263

Hope 264

Unfulfilled 265

Proh Pudor ! 267

For John Paul — who sent roses on St. Valentine's Day 269

Outward Bound ....... 271

Epitaph on a Dog ...... 273

A Question . . » o . . -274 viii

PAGE.

A Daughter of the Dakotas .... 277

By the Dragon River 281

A Hymn 283

SONNETS.

To My Leader 287

To A Class-mate 288

Time's Perversity . 289

On Reading a Modern Romance . . . .290

''The Monarch." a portrait of a lion, by Rosa Bonheur,

now in the Van derbilt collection . . . . 29 1

An Invocation to Health. For one seeking her in the

Adirondacks 292

To Mrs. Yale 293

To My Sister. From over the Sea .... 294

Red Clover 295

To A Beautiful Lady ...... 296

To W. S. M. With a copy of Shelley ... 297

By Lake Michigan 298

EN VOL

On Reading Longfellow's Lines ''The Arrow

Persons of the Prologue.

PRINCE ANDREA.

FLORIMOND, Count of Vancua, friend to the Prince.

Guardsmen.

VALERIA, a traveling child-minstrel and raconteur.

The action of the Prologue and of the Plaj/ takes place in one of the petty states of Italy during the fourteenth century.

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Prologue

Scene. — A roadside. In the distance a palace. Enter the child-minstrel Valeria, ragged and weary, and bearing a lute.

Valeria.

How tired the day is, and my head is hot — So hot perchance the sun has sent his beams To rest upon it. All the birds have flown. Give me your wings, my music-makers — wings ! And I will seek you where the perfumes grow, In the king's garden yonder. I will see The great white towers you wheel about, and hear The voice of princes and of white-skinned maids. Are you not happy when you die, my birds — You who have seen such glory? 1 believe I could be joyous all my life if once Some youth, all gold and velvet and perfume, Like him who far away in yesterday Reined in his steed to listen to my song — If some such lord should take me by the hand

And say : I will not give thee coins for song —

Sing me a ballad for an hour of joy ;

One song, and for an hour thou shalt command,

And all the glories of thy dreams are thine !

Then would 1 shout and bid my laughing soul

Change to a princess for a lily's year;

And 1 would cry. My robes, my jewels, ho!

Summon my slaves and bid them bear me on

Through gardens richer than a rose's heart,

Through halls where bright deeds, deeply set in gold,

Shine from the walls like jewels, and great kings

Stand forth in marble and at last are still.

Oh, I would crowd such years into that hour

That all my life would be but memory

And all my songs an echo !

[She sings.] Have you heard of the princess who far away

In a tower by the moaning sea For her lover kept watch, till she heard one say

That a perjured soul had he ?

For the troth she had plighted for aye, for aye.

Was a jest to his spirit free.

One flash from her eyes, and she turned their light

On the storm-bound sea and sky — One moment, and swift through the pitiless night

A shadowy shape sped by.

And no sound was heard, through the storm's affright.

Of a human soul's last cry.

It is strange The high-born princess could not find delight, Whom all obeyed save one. Ah ! would to Heaven That I might wear her robes and coronet, And have a troop of courtiers at my beck ! I would be happy as the bird that flies Nearest the sun, content to fly alone. No man of all their tribe should e'er disturb My high serenity.

[The girl wanders out. Enter the Prince and Florimond, gay youths laughing together.]

The Prince.

But, Florimond, While there are horses in my father's realm I cannot think of women.

Florimond.

Say you so !

Your highness then shall give me all the maids And I will get you steeds from Barbary.

The Prince.

These ladies of the court, my Florimond, Think you a man may find one maid of ail Whose whole life owns as much of nature's law As yonder thrush's song? Oh, I am tired Of the bowed heads and bending knees of women

Who spy the prince afar, but have no eyes

Save for his trappings ! If I could but find

One face unconscious as the new-born day,

With eyes that to our noon in midnight bring

Swift visions of the morn, whose glances rise

Fearless as sunlight to encounter darkness,

A voice that blows like spring's fresh breezes through

Our hot-house bloom of courts, a step as free

As the wild mountain goat's, a heart untaught

And so untainted — find me such a maid

And she shall wear a crown ! Yea, though her brow

Knows not the touch of gold, save when the sun

Beats amorous kisses on it.

Florimond.

But, my lord, You do them wrong, the ladies of the court. To hold them slaves to ceremony. Think If you exact it not. You wear your rank Even as the porcupine his spears, that wound The unwary handler. Fold it by awhile, This proud reserve and ill-advised scorn. And search some lady's eyes for gentle proof Of nature's rule in her. Trust me, your highness Will fathom secret depths untroubled by Windy frivolities of etiquette. But when you find that peerless maid, my lord. Untaught, untainted, free — you know the rest — ■

Methinks I would not crown her, lest perchance Her wild charms stifle in our fevered air. It is enough to give such lowly grace The left hand of your favor, for the state Claims the bestowal of your right, and asks No queen so savage.

The Prince.

By this sword I swear The state that owns me for its king will take The queen I give it, though her voice be tuned Unto a beggar's whine, and though her robes Be ragged as the tatters of old Time. And you may tell the councilors of state No woman whom I love shall be deceived With that base homage which the rotting time Pays to king's mistresses. I dc not wish To join the crowd of noble dissolutes Who sicken states with rank airs of dishonor, Till strength and glory fall to leprosy And ruin undermines the very throne. My country has my service ; to her cause I dedicate my hands, my brain, my life. I serve her so devoutly it were treason To give my heart to any save her queen.

Florimond. 'T is well for kings all patriots think not so.

The Prince.

Your honor's gone a-jesting.

Florimond.

Nay, I applaud Your ardor in preparing bandages To bind the wounds of Time, and make him whole. His is a scarred old visage ; nevermore The eyes of youth will open on the world, All innocence and wonder. Since our age A sour and wrinkled tyrant is, 'twere wise To wear his colors, and not flaunt abroad The flaring virtue of your youth.

The Prince.

My friend, Ah ! be not thus the spokesman of the time. And voice the message that the very air Is heavy with. Truth has been drugged so long She hangs her head in shame, and men forget The glory in her eyes. But some there are Who search them still, and the white-souled old priest Who taught me long ago was one of these. He tore away the veil of sophistries And gave me one deep look into her soul, And I can not forget. Ah ! Florimond, She yet will conquer ! In a fight with her Our age would infamously perish. Come :

I \

Shall we not greet her in all friendship, ere She falls upon her foes?

A miracle !

A prince in love with truth ! A despot's son Hoping to rule by righteousness! My lord, May hosts of angels aid you, for I fear Earth's soldiers will not !

The Prince.

'T is a merry tune — This song of yours !

Florimond.

But I will give you time..

A few years near the throne will wear away The antique wisdom of the priest —

The Prince.

No more !

A pestilence is sweeter than your tongue ! I have no taste for rankness, so will leave you To your amusing thoughts.

Florimond.

I have presumed.

Friends must be frank, my lord.

The Prince.

If you are frank, Heaven mend your soul and guard your loyalty !

[Exit the Prince.]

Florimond.

So fierce — so fierce ! I 'd rather be a child Than own a spirit rigid as a post, And pointing one way always. Faugh ! he lies Secure within my hand. Good saints in heaven ! 'T is the same Psyche in the beggar's robe. Now for an ambush. So.

[Valeria reappears. ]

Valeria.

Alas! alas!

Why must I dream of kings and palaces, And wear these rags, sleep 'neath the staring stars, And learn new songs forever till I die ! Oh, I must think no more. A song! a song ! Best dance and sing, and so wear out the day.

\She sings and dances wildly.] Dance on, children of song, over the hills with me ; Haste down, out of the clouds, down to the sunlit sea. Wild winds sweep us afar out of the heights they sway. Ah, come ! breathe of the south, buried in blue — away !

Come, win kingdoms of light ; crown ye with summer's praise.

Sing ! dance ! tune me your lutes, wreathe them with deathless bays.

Are ye beggars that rove, heirs of the proud world's scorn ? Nay, kings ! dowered with weahh richer than gold of morn.

[Reenter the Prince, who listens unnoticed.]

On, on ! Ours is the truth ; deep in her heart we read.

We give glory to fame, life to the mighty deed.

Gods we — conquering death, wreathing his brow with

flowers.

Give earth all to her slaves — heaven and time are ours !

Then dance — far and away —

[She reels, overpowered by the heat.]

Where is the song gone? Oh, my heart ! my heart! God! is this death ?

[She falls fainting. The Prince hastens to her and raises her head on his knee. Florimond approaches.]

The Prince.

Some water, Florimond !

Florimond.

Here 's wine, my lord.

[The Prince forces wine into her mouth, but she does not revive. He then blows a signal on his bugle twice, which is repeated from the palace far away. ]

The Prince.

She is more beautiful Than is the face of glory to the brave.

Florimond.

More fair than death.

The Prince.

Be still — she is not dead !

No Spartan girl could sing her soul to sleep With words so like life's song of triumph. Look! See you the horsemen ?

Florimond.

Down the road I see Their plumes lie prone upon the wind for speed.

The Prince.

Her voice was like the dawn across a sea, Making the old world quiver with new light. God ! thou wilt not eclipse it !

Florimond.

The sun was jealous, Viewing in her a rival luminary Which he must conquer ere the world be shaken From its proud balance. Will you dare undo His scorching work, unveil those dangerous eyes. So harmless now ?

The Prince.

Have we another Helen In this poor child, and would you let her die

IM!

That the brown world may hold its smooth career ?

Nay, nay — not all of us together reach

The value of such beauty. Ah ! they come !

[Enter, on a gallop, six or eight guardsmen with an officer, who swiftly dismounts and salutes.]

Back, half of you, and from the palace hither Bring food, wine, water, leeches, and a litter. Haste, as you love me! You who stay, approach. And make your arms a couch. We Ml follow them Far as the spring and dew these secret eyes. Lightly as a young lily rises up From the dull blackness of ancestral earth Does she escape her fate in these our arms.

Florimond.

To be the fire-brand in fate's hand, perchance.

The Prince.

Ay, or the torch, to scatter healing light Among the foul illusions of our time,

[Exeunt omnes.]

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Persons of the Play.

THE KING.

PRINCE ANDREA, son to the King.

FLORIMOND, Count of Vancua, friend to the Prince.

COUNT LEONE, friend to the Prince.

AGNOLO, a courtier.

FILIPPO, a courtier.

CARDINAL ORTUS.

CAPTAIN of the King's Guard.

Courtiers, Guardsmen, Soldiers, Citizens.

LIPERATA, sister to the King.

TORA, her daughter.

PIERA, friend to Tora.

OLIVIA.

VALERIA, musician and raconteur in the King's court.

Ladies of the Court, Women of the People, AND Dancing Girls.

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Five jyears elapse between the Prologue and the opening of the Plaj>.

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