Chapter III: Act III: Scene I--A Cloudy Morning in the Forum

_Busy passing to and fro of citizens. Enter Cornelia and
Tiberius, attended by two slaves. The former appears
embarrassed, fluttered, and distressed, the latter troubled and
concerned._

_Cor._ Gods! How the people stare upon me, brother!
Alas! They reek not of a woman's heart,
But judge me bold and courting their attention,
I who am hungry for one gaze alone,
Yet can not find. So many days have passed,
No tidings from my love hath reached mine ears,
And rumors that he's dead hath driven me
Close unto madness. All my slaves have sought,
But failed to find him. I am desperate!
Surely the ears of one who loves will hear,
Surely the eyes of one who loves will see,
And learn his fate, whether for good or ill.
He will forgive me for exposing her
He loveth to the gaze of multitudes!

_Tib._ Ay, but most likely he was called to serve
Rome in the latest skirmish with her foes.
Thy fear it is unfounded.

_Cor._ Nay, my child,
The skirmishing they say is discontinued,
And all who fought therein returned unto
The camp, save only those who fell beneath
The Sabine spears. My Love hath not been seen,
And I can rest no longer in my house.

[_While they speak, the already clouded sky darkens so rapidly
that all start and look out across the populated hills. A
distant peal of thunder is heard, followed by a second, greater
in volume. All press together, then a cry arises:_ "Way, make
way! The sibyl of the vale would speak! She is inspired!" _The
dense crowd parts and all swing backward in confusion. A flash
of lightning breaks the heavy gloom, followed by a muttering of
thunder. A few large raindrops fall. The sibyl enters through
the multitude, a weird, mad form, with tossing hair and wild,
disheveled garments._

_Sibyl._ Wail, walls of Rome, and weep, ye tender vales
Of sweet Italia!

[_A murmur and a swaying. Voices contend for silence._

Oh! day of dole!
Oh, day of perfect woe! Oh, Furies' day
Of fever and of tears! Oh, black despair!
The night of tyranny hath settled o'er
Our city, roof-like shuts her from the air
Of Heaven! And the hollow, brazen dome
Of despotism closes o'er our heads;
Black tyranny and red-hot despotism!
Had I hands long enough and nails as sharp
As Hate, I'd tear in shreds the infernal web!

[_Another peal of thunder resounds. She points toward the heavy
clouds._

My tongue is laden with the vast commands
Of Jove, to-day. But Rome is deaf and mad.
The gods cry out upon this tyranny,
The heavens in thunder clap their wrathful hands!
Yet Rome, the Rome of Romulus, the Rome
Of Numa and the martial kings of old,
Is deaf--is deaf and mad! Oh! woe, woe, woe!

[_With a prolonged, shrill wail of despair she vanishes amid the
crowd. Great agitation now displayed by the majority of
citizens. Enter a runner._

_Run._ Ye men of Rome, I bear ill news with me!

_The Cit._ What is't? Out with it! Dally not at all!

_Run._ Sicinius, our leader, he is dead!

[_A murmur of horror._

_Cor._ (_starting wildly forward_). Sicinius? Sicinius, the pleb?
Oh! gods of Heaven! Ye have struck me hard!

[_She sinks insensible upon the ground. Her slaves bend over
her. Tiberius kneels beside her, sobbing bitterly._

_The Cit._ How died he?

_Run._ It is said by some that he,
Being sent by the Decemvirs to select
A spot most suitable whereon to camp,
Fell into ambuscade and died along
With several comrades.

_The Cit._ Slaughtered by the foe?

_Run._ So it hath been reported by the few
That did escape. [_He pauses, then proceeds._
But hearken, citizens!
The bodies lay unspoil'd, with faces turned
All toward one--that one, Sicinius.
The Ten hath hated and hath feared this man!
No more. Construe the meaning as ye list;
I must away.

[_Exit runner. The four citizens, Horatius, Galba, Marius, and
Hortensius, approach the prone form of Cornelia._

_Hor._ A lady of patrician birth! Good slaves,
Can we assist thy mistress, who appears
In such a piteous and hapless plight?

_Slave_ (_sobbing_). Alas! Alas! I know not what to do,
Or what hath come upon her suddenly.
Ah! see, she stirs! Lady, awake! awake!

_Cor._ (_opening her eyes, but making no attempt to raise herself_).
Those words he used when last he came to me.
Oh! bitter, bitter fate! Say not awake,
But sleep eternally! Sicinius!

_Galba._ It doth appear affection did exist
Betwixt Rome's great plebeian and this lady.

_Tib._ Ay, sir, she loved him e'en as he loved her;
But naught was said because they feared the Ten.
Nay, I was wrong! Sicinius and fear
Are alien the one unto the other!
But rather did he bide his time until
These men should be o'erthrown and Rome be freed
From their most hateful laws and government.

_One of the multitude._ Hark to the boy! He is a demagogue.

_Another._ Nay, he is innocent, and therefore bold.
Parroting sentiments that are not his own.

_A third._ And yet he speaks the truth, the naked truth.
See how this woman hath been sadly wronged,
And how her life is marred by these Decemvirs;
For surely they gave orders for the death
Of him who was a leader and a man!
Have they not feared him for these many months,
Because his tongue is sharper than a sword?
And these two, a patrician and a pleb,
Each representing classes now united
By common misery, are foully hurt,
And scarred by fierce injustice from the Ten.
Vengeance! The time is ripe for vengeance. Rome
Can bear no more. Sicinius is dead!

[_Murmurs of_ "Sicinius is dead!"

_Cor._ (_moaning as in pain_). Sicinius is dead!
Sicinius!

[_Enter Virginia, followed by Camilla. She espies Cornelia and
at once approaches._

_Virg._ Kind citizens, let me to her, I pray.

[_She kneels beside the fainting girl._

Oh, tearful sight! Ah me, most sorrowful!
Thou art Cornelia, whom I oft have seen,
Of whom I've heard from thy dear lover's lips.
I knew him well; he waits for thee beyond
The sea, in the broad Islands of the Blest,
Where heroes find a haven and a rest.

[_She smooths the other's brow in silence for a space, and then
proceeds._

Look up, poor broken spirit, and discern
A friendly face and weep upon my heart.
She will not rouse herself! Good people, pray,
Press not upon her. Bring a car, O slave,
The lady is unable to return
On foot. The carriage waits without the place?
'Tis well. And now to bring her to herself!
Cornelia, waken! But look not so cold.
Thou gentle heart! relieve the strain of grief
With tears of passion. Then come home, come home.

_Cor._ (_rousing herself_). Tell me, who art thou, O thou noble maid?

_Virg._ I am Virginia, whom thou knowest not.

_Cor._ Canst thou not take me from this staring crowd?
Their eyes are knives; the very air is poison.
Oh, God! He is not dead?

_Virg._ (_assisting her to her feet_). Come home, sweet sister.

_Tib._ (_sobbing_). Cornelia, my Cornelia! Speak to me!

_Virg._ Art thou Tiberius, thou tender child?
Weep not; assist me with thy stricken sister.

[_As the three, the slaves in close attendance, are about to
make their way through the multitude, there comes a sudden
disturbance, and Marcus Claudius springs forward._

_Marc._ Ho! stay a bit, my servant; stay with me!

[_He seizes rude hold on Virginia, who shrieks aloud in terror.
At once the four citizens make their way to her side._

Now by the gods! I only take mine own.

_Virg._ Aid me, in Heaven's name, ye citizens!
Deliver me from shame! Icilius!
Icilius, my love, where art thou now?

_Marc._ (_in undertone_). Thy struggles, maid, succeed in binding thee
But closer in mine arms. Hast thou a lover?
He hears thee not, and thou art my possession.
Now, still thyself. Gods! Proserpine, thou art
As strong as is Cybele's lioness!

_Marius._ Foul slave! Loose thou the maid! Oh, insolence!

_Hor._ Beast! I will kill thee, maim thee like a dog,
Unless thou takest thy hand from off the maid!

_Marc._ (_panting_). Reserve thy threats and play thou warily,
Justice upholds me!

_The multitude._ Justice!

_Marc._ (_coolly_). Shout less loud,
Look not aghast, my masters. I will take
This girl by law--she is my rightful slave.

_Hor._ 'Tis false!

_Marc._ Soft, friend, be calm, hold off, I pray!
Hark! she was born a slave within my house,
And thence was stolen and declared to be
The offspring of the man Virginius,
Whose wife had borne an infant at the time,
Which on the moment of its birth had died.
Virginius himself was then away,
And on returning deemed it was his babe,
And deems so to this day. I waited long,
And now have found in this Virginia
My property. A woman hath confessed;
The one who stole her thence and fled away,
Returning but to die within the house
Of Appius, my patron, whom I serve.

_Cam._ Oh, liar! I first clasped her in mine arms
When she was born! Remove thine impious hand!
In childhood and in girlhood I have watched
Her growth, and guarded her from shame or harm.

_Multitude._ Ay, ay! She speaks the truth! Loose thou the maid!
She is no slave. We know Virginius.

_Marc._ Now, I'll have justice, though it cost me e'en
My life, itself.

_Hor._ Which it is like to, dog!

[_He strikes him boldly with, clenched fist. The client
staggers, losing his hold on Virginia, who takes refuge with the
three citizens._

_Hortensius._ Where is thine evidence?

_Galba_ (_ironically_). Ay, e'en thy word
Weighs naught with us free citizens of Rome.

_Marc._ (_hissing between his teeth_). My word _shall_ weigh with you,
ye coward curs!
For lo! My word is--Appius! Ah--so!

[_The mob shrinks backward at the name, and Marcus laughs in
scorn._

(_Vindictively._) I see it hath a little weight with you?
"Free citizens of Rome!" Ye make me laugh.
Oh! ay, I know ye'd mob me joyously,
Stone me, or cast me from Tarpeian Rock,
Save that--save that--ye _dare_ not! Appius
Would leave not one small particle of this,
His client, unavenged. Back, all of you!
The maid is mine! Ye can not say me nay.

_One of the multitude._ But if we threaten thee, or bear her off,
And save her from thy most illegal movements,
What then?

_Marc._ What then? To Appius Claudius
For justice I would go!

[_Murmurs of fear are heard on every side._

(_With mocking smile_). Lo! now he comes
Within the Forum.

[_Even as he speaks the Chief of the Decemvirs enters. He is
seated in a chair which is borne by four slaves._

_Appius_ (_frowning sombrely_). What bodes this tumult?
Who, yon lovely girl?

_Multitude._ Justice! We would see justice, Appius!

_Appius._ Silence! and let me hear one voice alone.
Marcus, my client, speak, for I would have
An explanation of this strange disturbance.

_Marc._ Most noble Appius, I owned this girl,
Born in my house full sixteen years ago,
Of my slave-woman.

_Cam._ (_boldly_). Liar! All men know
Her mother was free-born and wedded to
Virginius, centurion and pleb.

_Appius._ Gag yonder hag, or drag her hence--I'll have
No withered woman's voice of spite exclaiming.

_Cam._ Thy lictor shall not lay his hands upon me!
My place is here. My voice shall speak for her,
Nor fear thee, king of tyrants and despoilers!
Long have I inwardly foreseen this day,
And prayed the gods to change the hand of Fate.
It seems my prayers are valueless. But still,
Still there does yet remain to me--my _curse_!
And all shall feel its potency who dare
To lay a finger on Virginia.

[_She faces Marcus Claudius with her arm extended and her manner
menacing._

Thou, fool of fools, who ventured to pollute
The purest virgin breathing in this land,
Because thou placed thy hand upon her flesh,
Which is as perfect as her perfect soul,
I curse thee--ay, and with a heavy curse,
For that which thou hast done! Thy misery
Shall soon exceed even thy trespasses,
Which in themselves are countless as the stars.
Be cursed, and live accursed and die accursed!
And be my witnesses, O, all ye gods!

[_She turns toward Appius--her attitude becomes calm, and
majestic._

And as for thee--I fear thee not. My curse
Shall rest on thee according to thine actions.
This much I have to say--thy tyranny
And rule of blood is waning to its close.
Beware, nor haste thy doom before its time.

_Marc._ (_trembling_). Seize on her, some of you, for she is mad.

_One of the multitude._ Nay, she is gifted with strange prophecy.
She voices Jove.

[_A tumult now arises in the background. Icilius springs forward
with a cry._

_Icilius._ Virginia! Turn to me!

[_He faces Marcus Claudius, and with one blow strikes him down,
then clasps Virginia in his arms._

_Virginia_ (_sobbing wildly_). And hast thou come at last?

_Icilius_ (_tenderly to her_). Courage, dear heart!

[_To Appius._

Now, as a free-born Roman, I demand
An explanation and a satisfaction!

[_To Marcus, who essays to speak._

Silence, thou hound, ere I forget myself
And murder thee! Thine answer, Appius?

_Appius._ Lictor, part thou the twain.

_Icilius._ Thou canst not, lictor!
In common manhood and as her betrothed,
Thus do I hold to her against the world.

_Appius._ Then, lictor, strike!

_Virginia._ Now, intervene, ye gods!
Icilius, my love! Oh! men of Rome,
Have ye indeed forgot Lucretia?

[_Swaying of the multitude. Appius Claudius rises in his car._

_Appius._ Be prudent, ye who do desire to see
Full justice. We must hark to every plea,
And will to-morrow judge the case. Till then,
Thou, Marcus, guard the maiden, since the man
Virginius is absent from the town.

[_A hissing protest from the multitude and a cry from Virginia
follows this announcement. Icilius faces the Chief Decemvir with
blazing eyes, and draws Virginia closer._

_Icilius._ Over my body only shall yon hound
Of Hell seize on her. I am yet a man
With strength to shield or life to sacrifice
For that which is mine own. Sleep 'neath his roof?
I'd sooner see her cold upon her bier,
Or bound upon the wheel of Ixion,
Enduring tortures of the damned themselves!
With him? I'd rather cast her to a wolf,
Who, merciful, would tear her into shreds
And leave her pure, or o'er Tarpeia's Rock,
And with mine eyes behold her perfect form
Shattered upon the kindly stones below,
Ere Marcus Claudius lay hands on her.

_Marius._ Ay, he is right; the maiden yet is free.
The charge hath not been proven, Appius!

_Appius._ So be it. We will acquiesce thus far,
But lictors must be stationed as a guard
About the house wherein she spends the night,
Lest she escape and law be unfulfilled.

_Cor._ (_coming forward_). I will go thither and attend this night
Upon her. Thou, Tiberius, return
Home with the slaves. To-morrow meet me here.

_Slave._ Lady, thy lips are white and thou art ill.
See, thou dost tremble.

_Cor._ Woman, what of that?
How canst thou weigh my pallor with her pain--
The anguish in her eyes? What though I shake
As with an ague? She herself is turned
To stone with horror deeper than mine own.
A living sorrow doth exceed a dead;
Death to dishonor seemeth merciful.
_Her_ blow is heavy with the weight of dread,
_Mine_ light with hope. Did she not succor me?
How can I fail her in her time of need?

_Appius._ Lictors, take into custody yon man.
Lest he do mischief.

_Icilius._ By the almighty gods!
Unhand me! I will kill thee, as a man
Would kill a beast. Ah! foulest trick to seize
Upon me from the rear. Oh, God! Oh, God!

[_He sinks helpless upon the stones at Virginia's feet, two
lictors binding him firmly with cords. The storm now breaks,
shrieking in maddest fury, the lightning playing over the hills
of Rome._

SCENE II--A CHAMBER IN THE HOME OF VIRGINIUS.

_Midnight and darkness, save where the moonlight shimmers
through the columns on the left. Virginia is discovered kneeling
in the sea of radiance as though in prayer. A silence follows
the rise of the curtain; then, low at first, but louder,
clearer, gradually increasing in volume, a hymn breaks from her
lips, she kneeling still._

HYMN TO DIANA.

O, thou virgin-goddess fair,
Look upon me in my sorrow;
Hear, oh, hear mine earnest prayer!
Guard me from the fatal morrow!
Purity is in thy breast
With thy silver moonbeams drest.

Still my cheek is hot with shame,
And my heart in anguish crying;
Let me keep my spotless name,
Waking, sleeping, living, dying!
Chaste Dian, thy stainless glory
Still resounds in song and story.

Mount thy ear within the blue,
Waft a whisper to me only!
Thou a heart hast, strong and true,
Think upon the maiden lonely.
Without thee it now would seem
Love were nothing but a dream.

[_Cornelia suddenly appears from out the gloom behind and puts
her arms about Virginia's neck._

_Cor._ Love but a dream? Ah, no! The gods forfend!

_Virginia._ Ah! Thou! [_Turns and embraces her._

_Cor._ No other than this broken heart;
Yet is my soul untouched by human woe,
As thine shall be untouched by human sin.

_Virginia._ I see the face, with passion fiery,
The full voluptuous lips and greedy eyes,
I see and shudder.

_Cor._ Marcus Claudius?

_Virginia._ Nay, but the other.

_Cor._ I am mystified.

_Virginia._ None saw as I saw! He alone I fear,
Who on the morrow will decide, dear God!--
For Marcus--yet not Marcus--but himself;
Allot _me_ as his own. (_Wildly._) I saw his look,
And felt his power! Marcus is the paw
Wherewith great Appius will seize his prey.
(_Laughs._) Virginia, his prey! He leered on me,
And in the whitening of his clenched hand
I marked the clash and clangor of his soul.
Dear gods! The feet of Night are leaden shod,
And yet the precious moments speed too fast.
Oh, Death! had I the courage that thou dost
Demand, I'd summon thee. Methinks I hear
E'en now the distant rustle of thy wings.
And yet--thou tarriest--thou tarriest.

_Cor._ Would Death might choose me out as willing prey!

_Virginia._ Dear one, thy voice is weary like the world,
Which is so old and heavy with its years;
And yet thine eyes are bright, undimmed by tears.

_Cor._ Bright with the pain that kills by slow degrees.
Ah! for Apollo's pestilential dart,
Or but to see the shears of Atropos
Flash in Diana's beams.

_Virginia_ (_softly_). We loved her light,
Thou--thou and I, when love was all in life,
And those, our own, the twain, Icilius
And brave Sicinius--"Ah, God! Ah, God!"
Thus cried he, my beloved, as he sank
Prone at my feet, a tyrant's prisoner.

[_Breaks from Cornelia's grasp and glides in anguish to the
curtained doorway on the right._

Icilius! Icilius! Come to me!

[_Enter a lictor--she shrinks back terrified._

_Lictor._ Lady, I must exhort thee to be prudent;
Such cries will but confine thee e'en more strait
Than thou art now confined. Silence is best.
So ordered Appius, our gracious lord. [_Exit lictor._

_Virginia_ (_sobbing softly_). I will be still! But I am so afraid,
I, innocent, know nothing of the world.
Life-bondage? Nay, methinks I am but mad.
Severed from _him_! Ah! lay me in my grave,
Rather than have my heart torn from my breast.

[_Music is distantly heard._

Oh! If to pass in moonbeams from this life
Mid the pure notes of music stealing on
Into my brain and sinking in my breast,
Enveloping my soul; or to the sound
Of rushing wind--that music of the gods
Swept by Apollo's hand, or harking to
The distant murmur of the restless sea,
Striking its pearly harp of mystic sounds,
Echoed within the caves where maidens dwell,
Nereides and Oceanides,
With faces like the sheen of moonbeams, forms
Like the white foam their sire, Neptune, makes
When angered, with his trident! If to sleep,
Sleeping, to dream, and dreaming, live again
The years that now lie white upon their bier.

[_The moon vanishes behind a cloud._

Ah, me! I am so utterly alone!
The moon hath veiled herself, the silence drear
Knocks on my heart, unhidden enters in,
Where once love and sweet innocence, in peace
Dwelt, all unscarred by a despoiler's hand.
It is grown cold! What was that sound I heard?
I am so sunk in solitude, so wrapped
In vacant space, so chilled, I gasp for breath,
Like drowning mariner; but for a hand
Warm, loving, to uplift me from this death
Among the living, life among the dead!

_Cor._ Virginia! Weep or pray, but do not so!
Alas, Virginia, art thou turned to stone?

[_Virginia, all unhearing, turns once more toward the columns
where the moon again shines through._

_Virginia_ (_singing_).
"In the deep dream-light thy bark thou art guiding,
Shifting thy garments, the clouds, as a sail.
Rocked o'er celestial waves thou art riding,
Hiding thy features behind a light veil.

Dian, the spell of thy muteness cast o'er me.
Calm the wild tumult which wars in my brain,
E'er through my life may thine image, before me.
Shining and constant as ever remain."

[_A silence falls. Virginia steals up to Cornelia, who stands
weeping alone._

My comfort hath not been denied me--see,
The moonbeams bear the message from the sky.
I hear a song which issues from the stars,
A song of love and hope for a reunion;
Re-born, we, who have loved and lost, shall live
Afar from sin amid the Blessed Isles,
And walk together, soul with soul, and heart
With heart; no drop of passionate blood shall be
Lost in our death, but we shall throb with love,
And laugh amid the light of suns to be.

[_A pause. Softly a dim gray light steals through the columns;
the moon is sinking slowly. Cornelia turns in sudden terror._

Farewell, immortal friend, go to thy rest;
Thy kindly watch is o'er.

_Cor._ Virginia, see!
Now dawns the cruel day when thou--when thou--
Ye gods have mercy on us twain this day!

[_Sobs wildly._

_Virginia_ (_pointing to the east_). It steals with
faltering steps and blushing cheeks.
Call it not cruel; it has wept for me.
The dew is heavy.

(_Voice of lictor without._) See, it is the dawn.
Look, comrades!

_Virginia_ (_starting as from out a dream_).
Ah, Cornelia! Sure, I sleep.
Is this my father's house? This four-walled cell,
This prison, and am I Virginia?
Could it have been but yesterday I woke
Within this chamber from a happy dream.
I dreamed of _him_, my love, Icilius,
And woke still with his kiss upon my lips.
I can recall the flood of morning light,
A billowed sea of light upon the wall.
I watched the changing pools and shifting waves,
And smiled; the music of the fount without,
In rising cadence, played within mine ears,
And presently the stirring of the maids
And hum of spinning reached me and I rose,
Glad, with the day. And now--Cornelia, touch
My cheek lest I be vanishing to air;
Feel if my heart yet beats. Methinks I'm dead;
Even this moment but a roving ghost.

_Cor._ Courage, Virginia. Why, much hope is left!
To-day thy father will return, and he
Would place his soul in jeopardy for thee.

_Virginia._ Courage, ay, courage! I am brave again.
It is the dawn. Cornelia, we will seek
The outer court and wash our tears away
In the cool fountain. Once again my cheek
Is hot with spirit and my heart beats swift
With hope and newborn trust in those I love.

[_Exeunt the two, their arms wound round each other and
Cornelia's lips pressed to Virginia's cheek._

SCENE III--THE FORUM.

_A multitude has gathered. Appius is in the judgment seat, with
Marcus Claudius stationed beside him. Many women are weeping and
the men appear silent and angry. Appius is surrounded by a guard
of lictors. Cornelia and Tiberius are seated on the left in a
car drawn by slaves. Near the center are gathered Galba,
Hortensius, Horatius, and Marius._

_Marius._ This vast suspense weighs on me heavily;
I would not see that gentle maiden wronged
For all my world possessions! E'en the gods
Would shriek with horror if yon slave of Dis,
Young Marcus Claudius, should seize on her.
Why doth she not appear?

_Hort._ She and her father,
Who hath returned, hot-foot, from camp to her,
Tarry about the town, and every man
They meet they do address with exhortations
And prayers for justice and for witnesses,
That this gross tale which men do know is false
Shall be so proven. Yet all Rome is prone
Beneath the foot of Appius and his nine
Vile colleagues. Fear is most tyrannical,
Justice is dying, Mercy now is dead.

_Marius._ Then God alone can help the wretched maid!

_Hor._ (_hotly_). Nay, shall she be defiled and made a slave?
Not while my hands are free, my body quick
With lifeblood, and my heart a man's. Why she
Is pure and frail as is the mountain snow.
Happy the man who stands her champion.
Happy Icilius, our young tribune!

[_Enter Virginius in mean, plebeian garments and Virginia simply
clothed in white, her dark hair loose. A murmur of sympathy and
admiration greet their appearance, quickly suppressed. Enter
from the other side Icilius, vainly struggling in the hands of
armored soldiers. His hair is wild and greatly disheveled, his
features white and drawn with agony._

_Icilius._ Virginia! Ah, my God! Virginia!

_Virginia._ My Love! My Love! My Love!

[_He stretches out his bound arms toward her, and in a moment
with a cry she runs to him, regardless of the gazing world, and
kneeling at his feet kisses with fervor the hands in bondage for
her sake. Murmurs from the multitude._

_Appius_ (_rising to his feet, his face aflame_). Back, girl! Back
from him! Lictor, part the twain!

[_Lictor unwillingly obeys, whereat Virginia rising slips away
from him to her father's side. Virginius advances, with his hand
uplifted, toward the judgment seat._

_Virginius._ Delay no longer in the trial of
This matter. We demand in common justice
A hearing, and at once, O, Appius!

_Galba_ (_aside to his friends_). Mark yonder man upon the
judgment-seat.
Methinks 'tis he who coveteth the virgin,
And Marcus but his instrument. Ah, see!
The Chief is moved to acquiesce. Methinks
He fears this pleb as he once feared Sicinius.

_Appius_ (_haughtily_). And now begins the judgment. Silence, all!
My client, Marcus Claudius, step forth.

[_The man obeys. Virginia, shuddering, looks only at her
father._

_Appius._ Repeat thy statement, Claudius, we wait.

_Marc._ O, noble Chief, and all ye men of Rome,
I but reiterate my words to-day
Spoken in explanation of my course
Of action yesternoon. A woman came
Unto the house of Appius, one moon
Ago, and came to perish on our hands.
But ere she died she made a full confession
Of having served in early years the wife
Of this our citizen, Virginius,
Who ignorantly hath been foully wronged,
For whom we feel the deepest sympathy,
And unto whom I now address myself.

[_Turns to Virginius._

O, good centurion, this maid is not
Thy child in blood; but, as I said, was born
Of a slave woman in my house. Thy babe
Died on the moment of its birth. Thou wert
Away in service. Dost thou not recall?

_Virginius_ (_in calm affirmative_). Yea, that I do recall.
(_Aside._) Thou fiend of hell!

_Marc._ (_triumphantly_). Has he not said? This slave, who did confess
To us the truth, declared that she had played
The thief and crept most slyly to my house,
Stolen the infant of my nurse and slipped
Out, 'mid the night and gloom, which, friendly, hid
Her dastard deed. Virginia is the babe,
And, therefore, lawfully belongs to me.

_Icilius._ Ye gods!

_Multitude._ No proofs? No evidence?

_Marc._ (_proudly_). My word!

[_Much laughter and some hissing._

_Appius._ Silence! Virginius, speak, and be as brief
As the occasion will allow. Proceed.

_Virginius._ Ye men of Rome! To you, and you alone,
I speak in my defense, for lo! in you
I see the qualities of common justice,
Or faintest sense of mercy, which is rare--
And less, indeed, unto the point in hand.
For all these forty years I've lived in Rome,
A Roman 'mongst the Romans, brave amongst
The brave, and serving, ere I came of age,
My mother city. Have I shown myself
In any manner base, corruptible,
Or lying, either by my word or deed?
Ye all are witnesses of me--each man
Can see and know the truth as God can see.
This is my babe, of me begotten, born
Of her whom I so loved--her mother. Lo!
The very luster of her ebon hair
Bespeaks the woman who in honor bore
Virginia. See! The tremble of her lip.
I do not willingly display my flesh
And blood to gaze of multitudes, but that
My straits are desperate. Look upon her hand--
The long, brown fingers are a copy true
Of these, though mine are knotted by the grip
Of sword and the guiding of the plow.
And now her eyes--Ah, no! I say too much.
Ye gods of Heaven speak for me this day!

[_He bows his head upon Virginia's shoulder._

_Appius._ He faints with sudden revelation from
The gods of what is manifestly true.
Virginius, thou art deluded, or
A man, of old, deceptive.

_Virginia._ 'Tis a lie!
He is Virginius, no more, no less!
And 'tis enough, as Rome can witness to.
Thou art not worthy to crawl on the ground
And kiss the hand which hath these many years
Battled for Rome! Thou canst but harm our flesh.
His name and mine are unstained as the flame
On Vesta's altar.

[_Turns to where Icilius is struggling vainly in the hands of
the guard._

Peace, Icilius!
Of what avail is aught to such as these?
Small hope is left--and yet, O, Appius,
Wert thou not born of woman? For the one
Who gave thee life, respect her sisters now.
Let mercy dawn within thy hardened breast,
Speak but one word--one word--and many lives
Will leap and live again. Look down upon
And honor this grey head, now bowed so low;
The only stay and comfort in his age
Wouldst tear from him? His years in solitude
Will roll away, a never-ending tide.
Ye Romans, look upon your citizens,
Protect your women--lest indignant Jove
Lightnings shall send upon you, or the shield
Of Mars be taken from its sanctuary.

[_Icilius at this moment breaks from the grasp of the soldiers
and leaps to Virginia's side. The girl lifts his bound hands and
places them against her breast, raising her eyes to his._

Icilius! I heard a ringing laugh,
And saw, as in a vision, a young child--
Our flesh and blood--our souls' inheritor.
I saw adorning me, in the strange dream,
A wedding garland fresh, not clanging chains.
O, if to die within thine arms! But stay!
My father--see the workings of his face!
He suffers. Father, we shall meet again
In the Elysian fields, when I am free!

_Appius._ Fools! Cease your maudlin tragedy! Disperse!
Come forward, slave, the judgment hath been passed.

_Cor._ (_starting_). The judgment, and so soon!

_Tiberius_ (_leaping from the car_). It is not so!
Virginia, stay awhile!

_Icilius_ (_aside_). Unbind my hands, Virginia!

_Virginia._ The knot is hard and I am dazed. I tremble.
Love, wilt thou sacrifice thy life for me?

_Icilius._ Ah! some one loose me of these cursed bonds!

[_He is seized by the soldiers and again forced from the young
girl's side. Cornelia steps from her car, and coming forward
kneels at the feet of Appius._

_Cor._ Lord Appius, behold a broken heart,
But one with gentle blood from noble veins
Forever fed. Though proud, I kneel to thee.
O, loose her bonds--restore her liberty--
And I my wealth, my house, and e'en my life
Shall give to thee or this thy servant here.
Deep down into the dust I do incline
Myself, who am a lady of the best
And noblest line in Rome. I offer thee
My services, if thou wilt free the maid
Who did befriend me in mine hour of need.

_Virginia._ Cornelia! To me! Nay, it shall not be!
Thou friend of friends, such sacrifice is vain.
One kiss alone I ask of thee--one kiss--
Then silence! See, Tiberius weeps for thee.

[_Tiberius springs with a cry into Cornelia's arms. The two draw
off together. The four citizens come forward._

_Galba._ O, Appius, we offer thee our lives
To do with as thou wilt--but loose the maid!

_Appius._Petitioners, ye gods, from every side?
It shall not be, for she is Marcus' slave.
The judgment has been passed, and I have spoken!

[_A murmuring._

Make way! The master comes to take his slave!

[_Confusion. Appius rises, his face ablaze with passion._

Make way, ye fools! I'll call my colleagues here
With all their lictors. There will be bloodshed!
Make way!

_Icilius._ Ah! but to have my hands about
His throat, though for a moment, for a breath;
Though for a heart-beat and, beyond me, Hell!

_Virginia_ (_in a voice of agony_). Father! My father!

_Virginius._ Quiet, little girl!
O, Appius, the final shred of hope,
The weakened flame, is gone--forever gone.
Before we part, indeed, one moment grant
To us aside, that I may speak with her.

_Appius._ Haste, then, old pleb! Nor tarry long for tears.

_Virginius._ Tears? What are they? My heart is dead and barren,
My soul athirst for death. Tears mean no more
To me than rain upon a broken stone.

[_He leads the girl aside. All watch in breathless silence._

_Virginia._ O, Heavenly Powers above, deliver me,
By whirlwind or by sword, from this dread place!
Father, farewell! [_Presses his hand to her lips._

_Virginius._ Ah! Touch it not!

[_Snatches a knife from a butcher._

Thus only can I make thee free, my daughter!

[_He plunges it into her bosom and she falls back into the arms
of Icilius, who has freed himself and leaps to her side with a
cry. Tumult and swaying of the crowd._

(_Brandishing knife._) With this blood, Appius! thy life and thee
Devote I to perdition!

[_Makes his way with the knife through the multitude. Icilius
lays her body down, murmuring,_ "Virginia, by thy blood shall
Rome be free!" [_Exit._

[_Camilla kneels as though stunned beside the prostrate body._

_Tiberius._ Ah me! Ah me! Virginia!

[_Sinks beside her._

(_Curtain._)

_It rises again to show the collected army, with Virginius and
Icilius at the head. Appius is about to leave the seat, his
cloak around his head. Several lictors have fallen to the
ground. Camilla still kneels beside the body, gazing vacantly
before her. Virginia's dark hair falls like a shroud around
her._

(_Curtain._)

POEMS

STEWARDSHIP.

What can I do for Thee, Almighty God,
Whose breath can wake, whose voice can calm, the sea?
Should I endeavor, with this striving brain,
Which, in its striving, errs, and, erring, turns,
And, fearful, flies from its appointed field--
With these weak hands, that blindly grope along
The road of Truth to higher things, uplift
Those fallen by the way, whom Thou didst name
My brothers? I, to the sad, ancient world,
Speak, in unfaltering accents, of my soul's
Instinctive yearnings, loftiest ideals,
And holiest hopes of the fair destiny
Of all my fellow-souls, who tread the way?
When One has left a message, sweet, divine,
Eternal, for the fainting world to read,
Should I arise and cry, an echo faint,
Of His all-satisfying tones of Love,
And lisp my dreams of Truth? I am afraid!
Yet, trembling, still I dare not to be mute.
Remembering His vast Love, I can not choose
But humbly say the lessons I have learned.
Teach me, O God, to feel Thy silences,
And hear Thy voice aright, in wind and wave;
Teach me the upward look of Faith and Hope,
Which lifts, nor ever drags the spirit down;
Teach me the tender touch and the warm smile
Of a deep, all-embracing heart, whose light
Is the sweet essence of true Charity!

THE SEA GULL.

Strong-winged soul of the lifting sea,
Bird of the gale,
Launch thyself from the crags, and fly
Over the crested waves, nor sigh
For the sheltered home, but gladly hail
The sea and the open sky!

High, low, high, low,
Over the foam,
Gliding level with the mast,
Darting close above the vast
Roll of billows--then come home,
And hide thee from the blast.

Once again, thy pinions free
Spread to the speaking breeze!
Forward, like a mermaid light,
Onward, like to a soul as white
As the curling foam of the singing seas,
Nor shrink from the coming night.

Rolling fog and fading light,
Spread and sail!
Fold thy pinions, breast the deep,
In the darkness, Spirit, sleep,
Soul of the gale!

MT. VERNON.

Home of the Dead! One glance of lingering love
We cast behind us, where our vessel's wake
Winds, foaming, backward to Virginian hills.
Home of the Dead! Retreating from thy shores
We breathe a final sigh, a last farewell.
The pillared mansion gleams amid the green,
The sombre tomb, deserted, stands alone;
While, over all, a thousand beacons burn.
The West displays a canopy of sky,
Woven by angels, flung across the hills,
Where sleeps the silent dust of Washington.

Bleak is the wind that leaps like blade unsheathed
From out the silver scabbard of the East!
At hide and seek, among the ruffled waves,
The eerie shadows play in elvish glee.
A thief, Night steals the golden glories bright
Of Day. But still a flush of silken rose
Colors the West, stains the broad river's breast,
And casts a garland 'cross the Eastern sky.

Behold, on either shore, reflected green,
Dim in the dying lustre of the sun,
While tips of rose, like diadems, adorn
And wreathe the gracious brows of drowsy hills.
Behold and marvel! See and comprehend!
Amid this beauty lies the sacred dust
Of one who was a hero and a man,
While all the hills that sleep about his tomb
Shine with the glory of God's holy light.

MY MOTHER.

Has she faded from my skies forevermore,
Like a star that slides adown the arch of Night,
Or the sunlight, swiftly paling on the shore
Of my boundless sea of hopes, that glittered bright
In the lustre of her smile? Is she gone forevermore?
Or has she but departed for a while?

Shall I never feel her hand upon my brow?
Shall I never meet her lips in kisses sweet?
Or is it that I am denied her now,
And some day shall hear the music of her feet,
And, like Proserpine, will come, with the happy winds that blow,
Leap the years, and find, in her, my final home?

THE CRADLE SONG.

Adown the vista of the years,
I turn and look with silent soul,
As though to catch a muted strain
Of melody, that seems to roll
In tender cadence to my ear.
But, as I wait with eyes that long
The singer to behold--it fades,
And silence ends the Cradle Song.

But when the shadows of the years
Have lengthened slowly to the West,
And once again I lay me down
To sleep, upon my mother's breast,
Then well I know I ne'er again
Shall cry to God, "How long? How long?"
For, to my soul, her voice will sing
A never-ending Cradle Song.

OUT OF THE DARK.

Out of the Dark that shrouded Thee, my Lord,
Upon that day of Passion and of Pain,
There rose a cry from Thee which rent the sky,
Piercing the shadows of the noontide gloom
In vibrant tones that rang with agony
Supreme, and, with the strength of holy grief,
Divine despair, rolled upward on the wings
Of Mystery unto the eternal Throne--
"Eli! Eli! Lama Sabacthani!"

Out of the dark that lies about my soul,
Upon this day of sorrow and of pain,
I lift mine eyes and gaze with prayerful heart
Upon the tortured image of my Lord,
Then lo! the sombre shadows melt away,
And round my spirit glows a wonderous light,
By thine own Cross and Passion, blessed Lord,
And by that mystic moment of despair,
Thy world shall never know Thine awful Woe,
Nor cry to God in agony supreme--
"Eli! Eli! Lama Sabacthani!"

NIOBE.

(Dedicated to the statue of Niobe, in the Uffizi Palace, Florence, Italy.)

Oh! form of perfect woe, in grief unending!
Soul-anguish, mortal pangs, in marble moulded!
Oh, sobs! by us unheard, that bosom rending!
Oh, tender form! within those arms enfolded!

With heart undaunted, has the Mother striven
Against Death's vengeance, e'en within its portal;
And when her soul with horror most is riven,
Woman, she dares to face the wrath immortal.

So, through the ages, see those forms united
In an eternal clasp. Ah, woe transcendent!
Upon that face, its beauty all unblighted,
We read the Mother-love, supreme, resplendent!

TO THE GENIUS OF DEATH, BY CANOVA.

Genius of Death! Thou form as white and slim
As moonbeams, falling through the awful dome
Above thee when the deathlike night draws down;
Speak, through those sweet, still lips, whose solemn curve
Alone gives token of thine ancient, dread
Supremacy! Say that thou art not Death,
But holy Calm or silent hushed Repose.
Still are thy stern lips dumb, no hopeful breath
Exhaling! Then, from them, do I appeal
To something more divine. O'er that calm brow
And carven face, uplifted from the tomb
In speechless faith, there shines a wondrous light
That mocks the awful declaration there.
Genius of Death thou canst not be, for lo!
Thou art the Soul of Immortality!

TO THE WINGED VICTORY OF SAMOTHRACE.

"Winged Victory?" Unworthy is that name,
Thou marble miracle of endless Time!
I see thee standing yonder in the light,
Upon thy rude and lonely pedestal,
A shape as strange as it is beautiful.
To me, thou art a winged mystery,
For where, in all the ages of the past,
Years of the present, centuries to come,
Can there be found creation like to thee,
Conceived by God or Man? A miracle;
Marble in motion--yet divinely still,
As though it paused to hear its own low breath--
Yet breathes not; pacing on its lonely height--
Yet stirs not; heavenly wings outspread, with chaste
Angelic curve--yet not in flight extended.
Thou art not of the living nor the dead.
Thy wings do breathe of immortality,
Of Heavenly Presence, yet thy headless form,
In all its marred and mutilated grace,
Points to the clay. How can we solve thee, then?
Enigma so profound was never known
Among the many countless works of Man.
Thou art incarnate Mystery itself,
Brooding above the world; the Universe
Lies in the shadow of thine outspread wings--
Thou silent Spirit of the Infinite!

BEATRICE TRIUMPHANT.

(To Beatrice Cenci, as she is depicted in Guido Reni's painting of St. Michael and the Dragon.)

Gold hair, blown back from radiant brow,
Crowning, like light, a maiden, martyred head,
Feet planted on the "Dragon," prone,
And mighty wings in victory outspread.
In thee what change, divinely wrought!
What wondrous resurrection from the dead!

He lies, beneath thy righteous feet,
Who, cruel craven, caused thee to be slain;
He writhes who let thee agonize,
A captive and in undeserved pain,
And crawls, in sight of all the world,
Forever rendered loathsome by that stain!

And thou, bright dream of brooding light,
With woman's face and angel's stature, thou
Exquisite seraph, fresh from God,
Tell me, why wakes no awful vengeance now
On thy grave lips? Oh! Woman, wronged,
Unfold the mystery of that calm brow!

THE CALL OF THE IRISH SEA.

Gray Irish Sea, wild Irish Sea,
That spreads so free, gray Irish Sea--
Your freedom mocks the shores you beat
With the booming tread of your angry feet;
The Celtic heart no longer sings
To the rhythmic rush of Freedom's wings!
Wild Irish Sea, gray Irish Sea,
Chant Freedom's dirge, wild Irish Sea!

Gray Irish Sea, wild Irish Sea,
You call to me, gray Irish Sea,
I hear the harp-strings of the North,
And stirring bagpipes thrilling forth;
I dream the dreams of olden days,
I hear bold Ossian chant his lays!
Wild Irish Sea, gray Irish Sea,
You call to me, wild Irish Sea!

THE LION OF LUCERNE.

Hid in a hushed retreat, a lovely dell,
Where Mother Nature sings low lullabies,
And weaves her silence like a sacred spell,
Beneath the light of deep and tender skies,
In his lone agony the Lion lies.

Colossal creature of a sculptor's brain,
Are you the marble that you seem to be?
Inanimate, untouched by mortal pain?
Within that form, and yearning to be free,
Your soul must wrestle with Death's mystery!

There is a height Self-sacrifice may climb,
Nearer the throne of God than any star,
A height above the wasting tide of Time,
Beyond the din of Earth's discordant jar--
A height that untried souls scarce see afar.

On that great height the Lion of Lucerne,
With face half-human, with majestic brow,
Lies stretched. Oh, Love! that will forever burn
On Pain's dread altar, you alone can know
The glory and the recompense for Woe!

SONNET TO NIAGARA FALLS.

As on the brink of that which men call Death,
Standing 'twixt Time and dread Eternity,
We pause to gaze with fear-suspended breath
On that abyss, whose depths we can not see,
So now, I stand, above thy thundering fall,
Thou Miracle, of marvels most supreme,
Who summons all the world, with trumpet call,
To adore the heavenly genius of thy stream!
In 'wildering confusion, mad disdain
Of earthly trammels, earthly tyrannies,
Shrieking, like legions of damned souls in pain,
Roaring rebellion 'neath the silent skies,
Fearful as Death, still thou dost seem to cry,
"I am the symbol of Eternity!"

THE LOST HEART.

(A Rondeau.)

Where is my heart? Ah! Love, I dare not say,
I only know that it is hid away,
Somehow,--somewhere,--and somewhat restless there.
But safely hid away,--poor heart, somewhere.

I strive to call it back to me, but nay,--
That willful heart refuses to obey.
And do you ask, thus, in your sad, sweet way--
You, Love, who know so well its secret lair,
Where is my heart?

Alone, I wait and wonder, day by day,
At the poor, pulsing heart, that went astray,
Once, in the mazes of a woman's hair.
Could it forsake a labyrinth so fair?
No need for you to ask, for me to say--
Where is my heart?

IS HE NOT MINE?

Is he not, mine? Although he drift from me
Into the Ocean of the Far Away,
Across the tideless and the awful sea
Of Time, while I alone must mutely stay
Within the doorway of a darkened Day;
Although he shake the dust from his light feet,
Dust of my warm Heart's Garden, yet I hold,
My Love forever, radiant, complete.
He breathes upon me when spring buds unfold,
He smiles upon me from the roses' gold;
I hear him in the tender melody
Of mating bird; his laugh rings, glad and free,
In every breeze; like stars his dear eyes shine;
His spirit is a presence, half-divine,
Which clasps, enfolds my being like a sea!
Is he not mine?

TWO GIFTS.

She laughingly gave me a rose, one day,
And the thorns were sharp,--but the rose was red,
And fragrant and warm from the sun's bright ray,
So I clasped the rose, though my fingers bled,--
And it fluttered in petals away.

She mockingly offered her heart, one day,
And I clasped what she gave, though my own heart bled,
I gazed in her eyes, and her soft hair lay
On my lips, and I laughed,--though the heart was dead,
And crumbled to dust away!

THE MOONFLOWER.

Earth star of the evening, full moon of the twilight,
Pale soul of the dusk, like a virgin in white,
With slow graceful motion, so stealthy, so silent,
She opens her heart to the kisses of night.

Chaste blossom, ah! thus, when my own Love approaches,
And bends o'er my spirit with fervor divine,
Thus would I lay bare, in unbounded devotion,
A heart pure and tender and fragrant as thine!

THREE KISSES.

A rampant wind, on a golden day,
Sported and played with a wild, wild rose,
He woke her soul from its mute repose,
He kissed the heart of the wild, wild rose,
And, kissing,--kissed her leaves away,--
And now the wind goes sighing.

Love won me, on a golden day,
He woke my soul, with a kiss sublime,
And the whole world vanished, and Death and Time
Seemed nought at the touch of that kiss sublime!
Love, kissing,--kissed my heart away,
And now Love goes rejoicing.

An Angel came, on pinions gray,
In his cold, white arms he clasped my Love!
Earth reeled, the sun went out above.
Oh! God! I saw Death kiss my Love,
And, kissing,--kiss his soul away--
And now my soul goes wailing!

A SONG OF THE WEST.

Into the glowing West!
And lo! the vast and sunburnt plains unfold,
An endless, rippling, tideless sea of gold,
Our own dear Mother's breast;
The gaunt, the silent earth,
The bare, brown land without a single tree
Or blossom as a home for bird or bee,
It lies, endures the dearth,
And smiles in spite of thirst
And parched and craving lips. This is the best,
The better land, my own, my noble West.

Into the West!
Green, verdant with the strength of endless light,
Immortal sunlight, radiant and bright!
Where man may work, may rest:
This is my paradise,
A land of flowers and of singing seas,
Of hoary mountain tops and giant trees,
Beneath vast arching skies,
Skies that are eloquent
With sympathy and soft, and deep and true,
Gray only when we weary of the blue,
Cloudless and all content.

Into the West!
That mother of great men who sing her praise,
Who marvel o'er her miracles and ways,
As free and unsuppressed
As ocean's roll.
Say, O, ye creatures of the further sea,
What know ye of her grace and melody,
The grandeur of her soul?

TO ESTHER.

As Night, before the dawn,
In starry splendor, seems to brood
Above the world, which waits the morn,
Yet worships Night in melancholy mood,
As Night, in whom a solemn passion lies,
So brood and beam my Esther's midnight eyes.

As sunlight on a rose
In flashing radiance seems to glow,
Warming the tender heart within,
To life and love; as early beams bestow
Upon that rose a soul which can beguile
A hundred hearts, so beams my Esther's smile.

As love-birds, in the Spring,
Sing on the sylvan boughs at noon,
And mating-calls in echoes ring,
Or oft at night they whisper to the moon;
As stream responds to stream with tender art,
So, to mine own, replieth Esther's heart.

As sea to distant sea,
In grand response to Passion's cry,
Declares its own vast mystery,
And answers wild entreaties with a sigh;
As waves to waves melodiously roll,
So sings to me forever--Esther's soul.

THE THRUSH.

It was the Thrush,--it was the joyous Thrush,
Who, with his beauteous voice, the woods addressed!
He sank from heavens unseen, and in the hush
Of floating fragrance and soft-slumbering flowers,
Dozing beneath the spell of sun-bright hours,
His summer shower of song the glade's deep heart caressed.

Bright, speckle-breasted, angel-throated bird!
He tilted on the hedge, and piped and wooed;
Now here a note, now there, so low 'twas heard,
Ofttimes, by one deep listening ear, one only,
The ear of Silence; he, her minstrel lonely.
Was it for her divine mute blessing that he sued?

How often I have watched him in the grass,
Familiar, small, erect, and bravely dressed
In spotted golden-brown; have seen him pass
Alertly to and fro, all blithely springing,
With elfin bounds; no longer wildly winging;
Content with Mother Earth, as though he loved her breast.

Earth born, sky destined, living harp of song,
Beloved Thrush, pour forth your notes divine!
Whether to earth or heaven you most belong,
What the vast purpose of your melody,
Your mystic glory, your bright ecstasy,
I know not,--only this, your soul is sweet to mine.

THE LIGHT OF THE STAR.

Dank were the grewsome alleys of the town,
Dingy the houses of the dreary street;
The very dogs reflected degradation,
Gaunt, wolfish; while God's flowers of creation,
Young children, lacking all that makes life sweet,
Through the foul-smelling night ran up and down.

Under a dull street light I watched them play,
Shrilling in high-pitched and unchildlike tones,
Daring the perils of the tainted city.
Then, in my heart, the horror and the pity
For human kind that in such blackness groans
Rose, and I could not drive the pall away.

Amid such concrete evils, inbred sin,
I, groping, questioned, could Christ's kingdom come,
By any means? How could he ever enter
At wealthy portals strong, where self is center,
Or at the darkened doors of spirits dumb,
Dulled by the ancient slums' unceasing din?

But, glancing upward, in my deep distress--
Myself so small an atom of my race--
I saw, above the dreadful hovels shining,
A single star. It seemed, my pain divining,
To answer from illimitable space,
And with its rays to sanctify and bless.

Witness it bore of Law by which worlds move,
Light of the Soul, the Everlasting Mind,
Which--in its compass Earth and Heaven holding--
Is ever like some shining scroll unfolding,
And will unfold with Time, till all mankind
Shall read Life's one solution, perfect Love.

THE MESSAGE OF THE PINES.

Tall Southern pines, with hearts of mystic throbbing,
Stretch your restless, weary boughs across the sunset sky,
Dark Southern pines, whose souls are ever sobbing,
I would roam through these dim aisles and learn the music of your
sigh.
Hark! the wail of hearts that can not weep!
Hush! the sigh of souls that long to sleep!

Tall Southern pines, I seek these silent places
Only in my memory--a memory beside me moves.
Dark Southern pines, I love your solemn spaces,
And there in spirit walk, and with her spirit seek the quiet groves.
Hark! the moan of human hearts that yearn!
Hush! the plaint of dreams that would return!

Tall Southern pines, I wrong you in my sorrow.
Harps divine, you chant a dream not passed, but yet to come!
Our two souls shall walk together, on some perfect morrow,
And through the years remain together, when your voices all are
dumb.
Hark! her spirit whispers in the grove!
Hush! I feel the presence of my Love!

THE LOST SUNBEAM.

Through fairy green of willows old,
Aslant the stately, virgin, cold
Form of the sycamore,
Where poplars laugh, where beeches pray,
Where breezes sigh, where streamlets sing,
And birds are ever caroling,
One morn, I saw a sunbeam stray;
This single, holy, radiant ray
On the wide earth had lost its way,
Escaped through Heaven's half-open door.

"Where will the sunbeam find its home?"
I idly wondered. "Will it roam
Until it makes its nest
Perhaps in some dear baby's hair?"
But no! a baby's tresses shine
With their own radiance divine--
The sun of Heaven is always there.
Or would it find a secret lair
In flowery heart? Nay, in that rare,
Deep cell, God's sun long found its rest.

So the lone sunbeam strays at will,
And longs for Heaven and rest, until
Into the silent grove,
An old man, crippled by disease,
Creeps down the path, with weary eyes.
That are too worn to seek the skies,
With palsied limbs and shaking knees,
And fixed, dull stare, that only sees
The stony ground. Oh! stately trees!
Shade this drear form with arms of love!

As he pursues his lonely way
Through the green wood, the shining ray
Straightway appears to dart
To that bent form, and seems to light
A glory in the thin white hair;
Then, restless still, it makes its lair
In the sad eyes, so dim of sight,
And, smiling through the sombre night,
It deeper sinks, a radiance bright,
And nestles in the old man's heart.

HERITAGE.

(To my Mother.)

Everything beautiful centered in you!
All that is fair, in your spirit, my Sweet,
From the depths of the sea to the height of the blue,
Lies now at my feet.

They are gems, they are gems you have scattered so free,
From your zenith of thought they have fallen like rain,
From the height of your love they descended to me,
In the midst of my pain!

Thoughts like the ocean and dreams like the morn,
Pure and unsullied, most holy and true;
Dear Love, in my being there shines a new dawn,
Whose light is from you!

Transcriber's Notes:

Passages in italics are indicated by _italics_.

End of Project Gutenberg's Virginia, A Tragedy, by Marion Forster Gilmore

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