Adventure | Science Fiction | Ghost stories | Poetry | Children | History BookOpen Original Text xion of the soul,
Maryland, my Maryland!
I hear the distant thunder hum,
Maryland!
The Old Line's bugle, fife, and drum,
Maryland!
She is not dead, nor deaf, nor dumb;
Huzza! she spurns the Northern scum,--
She breathes! She burns! She'll come! She'll Come!
Maryland, my Maryland!
Written 1861.
ABRAM JOSEPH RYAN.
~1839=1886.~
FATHER RYAN, "the poet-priest," was born in Norfolk, Virginia, but
passed most of his life farther south. He lived in New Orleans,
Knoxville, Augusta, and Mobile. His death occurred in Louisville,
Kentucky. His patriotic poems are among the best known and most
admired that the South has produced; his religious poems evince a sad
view of human life together with an exalted adoration of the Divine
Will.
WORKS.
Poems.
Life of Christ, [unfinished].
Some Aspects of Modern Civilization, [a lecture].
To our great regret, we have not been permitted by the publishers to
copy any of Father Ryan's poems. Every one is familiar with his
"Conquered Banner," and "Sword of Lee"; the "Song of the Mystic" is
one of his most beautiful productions.
WILLIAM GORDON McCABE.
~1841=----.~
WILLIAM GORDON MCCABE was born near Richmond, and educated at the
University of Virginia. He was a captain in the Confederate service;
and since the war he has had at Petersburg one of the best schools
preparatory to the University. He is a poet, and has also edited
several Latin authors for school use.
WORKS.
Ballads of Battle and Bravery.
Defence of Petersburg.
DREAMING IN THE TRENCHES.[38]
I picture her there in the quaint old room,
Where the fading fire-light starts and falls,
Alone in the twilight's tender gloom
With the shadows that dance on the dim-lit walls.
Alone, while those faces look silently down
From their antique frames in a grim repose--
Slight scholarly Ralph in his Oxford gown,
And stanch Sir Alan, who died for Montrose.
There are gallants gay in crimson and gold,
There are smiling beauties with powdered hair,
But she sits there, fairer a thousand-fold,
Leaning dreamily back in her low arm-chair.
And the roseate shadows of fading light
Softly clear steal over the sweet young face,
Where a woman's tenderness blends to-night
With the guileless pride of a haughty race.
Her hands lie clasped in a listless way
On the old _Romance_--which she holds on her knee--
_Of Tristram_, the bravest of knights in the fray,
_And Iseult_, who waits by the sounding sea.
And her proud, dark eyes wear a softened look
As she watches the dying embers fall--
Perhaps she dreams of the knight in the book,
Perhaps of the pictures that smile on the wall.
What fancies I wonder are thronging her brain,
For her cheeks flush warm with a crimson glow!
Perhaps--ah! me, how foolish and vain!
But I'd give my life to believe it so!
Well, whether I ever march home again
To offer my love and a stainless name,
Or whether I die at the head of my men,--
I'll be true to the end all the same.
_Petersburg Trenches, 1864._
FOOTNOTE:
[38] By permission of the author.
SIDNEY LANIER.
~1842=1881.~
SIDNEY LANIER was born in Macon, Georgia, descended from a line of
artist ancestors, through whom he inherited great musical ability. He
was educated at Oglethorpe College, being graduated in 1860. He and
his brother Clifford entered the Confederate Army together in 1861 and
served through the war; but the exposure and hardships and
imprisonment developed consumption which finally caused his death.
After the war he lived for two years in Alabama as a clerk and a
teacher; but his health failed and he was forced to return home where
he practised law with his father till 1873. Then deciding to devote
himself to music and poetry, he went to Baltimore where he was engaged
as first flute in the Peabody Symphony Concerts and in 1879 as
lecturer on English Literature in Johns Hopkins University. His dread
disease never relaxed and he was often obliged to quit work and go to
Florida, North Carolina, Georgia, and Pennsylvania in search of
strength. His death occurred at Lynn, Polk County, North Carolina, on
his last quest for strength and life with which to continue the work
he so much loved.
His "Science of English Verse" is said to be a new and valuable
addition to the study of poetry. His poems belong to the new order of
thought and life. His "Tiger-Lilies" is a prose-poem, written in three
weeks just after the war and laid in the mountains of Tennessee and on
the eastern shore of Virginia where he was stationed. "Beauty is
holiness, and holiness is beauty," was his favorite remark on the
subject of Art. His work and influence are growing in importance in
the regard of students.
In 1876 he was invited to write the poem for the Centennial
Exposition; and the "Meditation of Columbia," composed with the
musical expression always in mind,--and so too it should be read,--was
the grand Ode that graced the opening day at Philadelphia. See under
_Waitman Barbe_.
WORKS.
POEMS:
Edited by his wife, Mary Day Lanier, with a Memorial by William Hayes
Ward.
Tiger Lilies, [novel].
Florida: its Scenery, Climate, and History.
English Novel and Principles of Its Development.
Science of English Verse.
Boy's Froissart.
Boy's King Arthur.
Boy's Mabinogion.
Boy's Percy.
SONG OF THE CHATTAHOOCHEE.
(_From Poems._[39])
Out of the hills of Habersham,
Down the valleys of Hall,
I hurry amain to reach the plain,
Run the rapid and leap the fall,
Split at the rock and together again,
Accept my bed, or narrow or wide,
And flee from folly on every side
With a lover's pain to attain the plain
Far from the hills of Habersham,
Far from the valleys of Hall.
All down the hills of Habersham,
All though the valleys of Hall,
The rushes cried, _Abide, abide_,
The willful waterweeds held me thrall,
The laving laurel turned my tide,
The ferns and the fondling grass said _Stay_,
The dewberry dipped for to work delay,
And the little reeds sighed _Abide, abide,
Here in the hills of Habersham,
Here in the valleys of Hall_.
High o'er the hills of Habersham,
Veiling the valleys of Hall,
The hickory told me manifold
Fair tales of shade, the poplar tall
Wrought me her shadowy self to hold,
The chestnut, the oak, the walnut, the pine,
Overleaning, with flickering meaning and sign,
Said, _Pass not, so cold, these manifold
Deep shades of the hills of Habersham,
These glades in the valleys of Hall_.
And oft in the hills of Habersham,
And oft in the valleys of Hall,
The white quartz shone, and the smooth brook-stone
Did bar me of passage with friendly brawl,
And many a luminous jewel lone,
--Crystals clear or a-cloud with mist,
Ruby, garnet, and amethyst--
Made lures with the lights of streaming stone
In the clefts of the hills of Habersham,
In the beds of the valleys of Hall.
But oh, not the hills of Habersham,
And oh, not the valleys of Hall
Avail: I am fain for to water the plain,
Downward the voices of Duty call--
Downward, to toil and be mixed wit Previous Next |