"The time she pa.s.sed, nor raised her eyes To hear me cry I would repent, Nor turned her head to hear my cries, But swifter went the way she went,--
"Went swift as youth, for all these years!
And this the strangest thing appears, That lady there seems just the same,-- Sweet Gladys-- Ah! you know her name?
"You hear her name and start that I Should name her dear name trembling so?
Why, boy, when I shall come to die That name shall be the last I know.
"That name shall be the last sweet name My lips shall utter in this life!
That name is brighter than bright flame,-- That lady is my wedded wife!
"Ah, start and catch your burning breath!
Ah, start and clutch your deadly knife!
If this be death, then be it death,-- But that loved lady is my wife!
"Yea, you are stunned! your face is white, That I should come confronting you, As comes a lorn ghost of the night From out the past, and to pursue.
"You thought me dead? You shake your head, You start back horrified to know That she is loved, that she is wed, That you have sinned in loving so.
"Yet what seems strange, that lady there, Housed in the holy house of prayer, Seems just the same for all her tears,-- For all my absent twenty years.
"Yea, twenty years to-night, to-night, Just twenty years this day, this hour, Since first I plucked that perfect flower, And not one witness of the rite.
"Nay, do not doubt,--I tell you true!
Her prayers, her tears, her constancy Are all for me, are all for me,-- And not one single thought for you!
"I knew, I knew she would be here This night of nights to pray for me!
And how could I for twenty year Know this same night so certainly?
"Ah me! some thoughts that we would drown Stick closer than a brother to The conscience, and pursue, pursue Like baying hound to hunt us down.
"And then, that date is history; For on that night this sh.o.r.e was sh.e.l.led, And many a n.o.ble mansion felled, With many a n.o.ble family.
"I wore the blue; I watched the flight Of sh.e.l.ls like stars tossed through the air To blow your hearth-stones--anywhere, That wild, illuminated night.
"Nay, rage befits you not so well: Why, you were but a babe at best, Your cradle some sharp bursted sh.e.l.l That tore, maybe, your mother"s breast!
"Hear me! We came in honored war.
The risen world was on your track!
The whole North-land was at our back, From Hudson"s bank to the North star!
"And from the North to palm-set sea The splendid fiery cyclone swept.
Your fathers fell, your mothers wept, Their nude babes clinging to the knee.
"A wide and desolated track: Behind, a path of ruin lay; Before, some women by the way Stood mutely gazing, clad in black.
"From silent women waiting there Some tears came down like still small rain; Their own sons on the battle plain Were now but viewless ghosts of air.
"Their own dear daring boys in gray,-- They should not see them any more; Our cruel drums kept telling o"er The time their own sons went away.
"Through burning town, by bursting sh.e.l.l-- Yea, I remember well that night; I led through orange-lanes of light, As through some hot outpost of h.e.l.l!
"That night of rainbow-shot and sh.e.l.l Sent from your surging river"s breast To waken me, no more to rest,-- That night I should remember well!
"That night amid the maimed and dead,-- A night in history set down By light of many a burning town, And written all across in red,--
"Her father dead, her brothers dead, Her home in flames,--what else could she But fly all helpless here to me, A fluttered dove, that night of dread?
"Short time, hot time had I to woo Amid the red sh.e.l.ls" battle-chime; But women rarely reckon time, And perils speed their love when true.
"And then I wore a captain"s sword; And, too, had oftentime before Doffed cap at her dead father"s door, And pa.s.sed a soldier"s pleasant word.
"And then--ah, I was comely then!
I bore no load upon my back, I heard no hounds upon my track, But stood the tallest of tall men.
"Her father"s and her mother"s shrine, This church amid the orange wood, So near and so secure it stood, It seemed to beckon as a sign.
"Its white cross seemed to beckon me: My heart was strong, and it was mine To throw myself upon my knee, To beg to lead her to this shrine.
"She did consent. Through lanes of light I led through that church-door that night-- Let fall your hand! Take back your face And stand,--stand patient in your place!
"She loved me; and she loves me still.
Yea, she clung close to me that hour As honey-bee to honey-flower,-- And still is mine, through good or ill.
"The priest stood there. He spake the prayer; He made the holy, mystic sign.
And she was mine, was wholly mine,-- Is mine this moment I will swear!
"Then days, then nights, of vast delight,-- Then came a doubtful, later day; The faithful priest, now far away, Watched with the dying in the fight:
"The priest amid the dying, dead, Kept duty on the battle-field,-- That midnight marriage unrevealed Kept strange thoughts running through my head.
"At last a stray ball struck the priest: This vestibule his chancel was.
And now none lived to speak her cause, Record, or champion her the least.
"Hear me! I had been bred to hate All priests, their mummeries and all.
Ah, it was fate,--ah, it was fate That all things tempted me to fall!
"And then the rattling songs we sang Those nights when rudely revelling,-- The songs that only soldiers sing,-- Until the very tent-poles rang!
"What is the rhyme that rhymers say Of maidens born to be betrayed By epaulettes and shining blade, While soldiers love and ride away?
"And then my comrades spake her name Half taunting, with a touch of shame; Taught me to hold that lily-flower As some light pastime of the hour.
"And then the ruin in the land, The death, dismay, the lawlessness!
Men gathered gold on every hand,-- Heaped gold: and why should I do less?
"The cry for gold was in the air, For Creole gold, for precious things; The sword kept prodding here and there Through bolts and sacred fastenings.
""Get gold! get gold!" This was the cry.