But to bring perhaps from afar what is already founded, To fill the gross the torpid bulk with vital religious fire, To obey as well as command, to follow more than to lead, While how little the New after all, how much the Old, Old World ! Long and long has the grass been growing, Come Muse migrate from Greece and Ionia, Cross out please those immensely overpaid accounts, That matter of Troy and Achilles' wrath, and Æneas', Odysseus' wanderings, Placard "Removed" and "To Let" on the rocks of your snowy Parnassus, Repeat at Jerusalem, place the notice high on Jaffa's gate and on Mount Moriah, The same on the walls of your German, French and Spanish castles, and Italian collections, For know a better, fresher, busier sphere, a wide, untried domain awaits, demands you. Responsive to our summons, 3 Or rather to her long-nurs'd inclination, She comes! I hear the rustling of her gown, I scent the odor of her breath's delicious fragrance, I mark her step divine, her curious eyes a-turning, rolling, Upon this very scene. The dame of dames! can I believe then, Those ancient temples, sculptures classic, could none of them retain her? Nor shades of Virgil and Dante, nor myriad memories, poems. old associations, magnetize and hold on to her? But that she's left them all—and here? Yes, if you will allow me to say so, I, my friends, if you do not, can plainly see her, The same undying soul of earth's, activity's, beauty's, heroism's expression, Out from her evolutions hither come, ended the strata of her former themes, Hidden and cover'd by to-day's, foundation of to-day's, Ended, deceas'd through time, her voice by Castaly's fountain, Silent the broken-lipp'd Sphynx in Egypt, silent all those centurybaffling tombs, Ended for aye the epics of Asia's, Europe's helmeted warriors, ended the primitive call of the muses, Calliope's call forever closed, Clio, Melpomene, Thalia dead, Ended the stately rhythmus of Una and Oriana, ended the quest of the holy Graal, Jerusalem a handful of ashes blown by the wind, extinct, The Crusaders' streams of shadowy midnight troops sped with the sunrise, Amadis, Tancred, utterly gone, Charlemagne, Roland, Oliver gone, Palmerin, ogre, departed, vanish'd the turrets that Usk from its waters reflected, Arthur vanish'd with all his knights, Merlin and Lancelot and Galahad, all gone, dissolv'd utterly like an exhalation; Pass'd! pass'd! for us, forever pass'd, that once so mighty world, now void, inanimate, phantom world, Embroider'd, dazzling, foreign world, with all its gorgeous legends, myths, Its kings and castles proud, its priests and warlike lords and courtly dames, Pass'd to its charnel vault, coffin'd with crown and armor on, And dirged by Tennyson's sweet sad rhyme. I say I see, my friends, if you do not, the illustrious emigré, (having it is true in her day, although the same, changed, journey'd considerable,) Making directly for this rendezvous, vigorously clearing a path for herself, striding through the confusion, By thud of machinery and shrill steam-whistle undismay'd, She's here, install'd amid the kitchen ware ! 4 But hold - don't I forget my manners? To introduce the stranger, (what else indeed do I live to chant for?) to thee Columbia; In liberty's name welcome immortal! clasp hands, And ever henceforth sisters dear be both. Fear not O Muse! truly new ways and days receive, surround you, 5 We do not blame thee elder World, nor really separate ourselves from thee, (Would the son separate himself from the father?) Looking back on thee, seeing thee to thy duties, grandeurs, through past ages bending, building, We build to ours to-day. Mightier than Egypt's tombs, Fairer than Grecia's, Roma's temples, Prouder than Milan's statued, spired cathedral, As in a waking vision, E'en while I chant I see it rise, I scan and prophesy outside and in, Its manifold ensemble. Around a palace, loftier, fairer, ampler than any yet, Over whose golden roof shall flaunt, beneath thy banner Freedom, A brood of lofty, fair, but lesser palaces shall cluster. Somewhere within their walls shall all that forwards perfect human life be started, Tried, taught, advanced, visibly exhibited. Not only all the world of works, trade, products, But all the workmen of the world here to be represented. Here shall you trace in flowing operation, In every state of practical, busy movement, the rills of civilization, Materials here under your eye shall change their shape as if by magic, The cotton shall be pick'd almost in the very field, Shall be dried, clean'd, ginn'd, baled, spun into thread and cloth before you, You shall see hands at work at all the old processes and all the new ones, You shall see the various grains and how flour is made and then bread baked by the bakers, You shall see the crude ores of California and Nevada passing on and on till they become bullion, You shall watch how the printer sets type, and learn what a composing-stick is, You shall mark in amazement the Hoe press whirling its cylinders, shedding the printed leaves steady and fast, The photograph, model, watch, pin, nail, shall be created before you. In large calm halls, a stately museum shall teach you the infinite lessons of minerals, In another, woods, plants, vegetation shall be illustrated-in another animals, animal life and development. One stately house shall be the music house, Others for other arts — learning, the sciences, shall all be here, None shall be slighted, none but shall here be honor'd, help'd, exampled. 6 (This, this and these, America, shall be your pyramids and obelisks, Your Alexandrian Pharos, gardens of Babylon, Your temple at Olympia.) The male and female many laboring not, And here shall ye inhabit powerful Matrons ! To sound of different, prouder songs, with stronger themes, Practical, peaceful life, the people's life, the People themselves, 7 Away with themes of war! away with war itself! Hence from my shuddering sight to never more return that show of blacken'd, mutilated corpses! That hell unpent and raid of blood, fit for wild tigers or for loptongued wolves, not reasoning men, And in its stead speed industry's campaigns, Away with old romance! Away with novels, plots and plays of foreign courts, Away with love-verses sugar'd in rhyme, the intrigues, amours of idlers, Fitted for only banquets of the night where dancers to late music slide, The unhealthy pleasures, extravagant dissipations of the few, With perfumes, heat and wine, beneath the dazzling chandeliers. To you ye reverent sane sisters, I raise a voice for far superber themes for poets and for art, To teach the average man the glory of his daily walk and trade, To sing in songs how exercise and chemical life are never to be baffled, To manual work for each and all, to plough, hoe, dig, To plant and tend the tree, the berry, vegetables, flowers, For every man to see to it that he really do something, for every woman too; To use the hammer and the saw, (rip, or cross-cut,) To cultivate a turn for carpentering, plastering, painting, To work as tailor, tailoress, nurse, hostler, porter, To invent a little, something ingenious, to aid the washing, cook ing, cleaning, And hold it no disgrace to take a hand at them themselves. I say I bring thee Muse to-day and here, All occupations, duties broad and close, Toil, healthy toil and sweat, endless, without cessation, The old, old practical burdens, interests, joys, |