What spell hath bound ye now? what lethargy
  O’ercomes your ancient power? that undisturbed
  Ye slumber on, as if ye heeded not
  The piercing shriek from yonder fuming car,
  Which saith that even here presumptuous man
  Has dared intrude upon the green domain,
  Which ye inherited when Time was born. 
  Awake! arise! are ye forever dumb? 
  Let Greylock, most majestic of your band,
  Stand up and shout aloud to Audubon,
  Until from peak to peak the sound rolls round,
  Until yon mountain that o’erlooks the west
  Takes up the cry, of vengeance upon him
  Whose strange devices break your long repose.

  In vain! ye are indeed forever dumb,
  Obedient to the will of Destiny,
  Who sits enthroned among the stars of heaven,
  And unto man’s inquiring vision points
  Toward the westering sun forevermore. 
  Such is the law that rules the universe;—­
  Planets and systems, e’en the sun himself,
  Around one common point progressive move. 
  And thus a few millenniums more shall man
  Proclaim the march of mind, and when ye pass
  Into oblivion with your weight of years,
  When galaxies and suns are quenched in gloom,
  Th’ unshackled soul of man, itself a star
  Lit by the smile of God, shall wing through space,
  The destined heir to immortality.

Quarterly, 1859.

THE YELLOW JASMINE

FRANKLIN CARTER ’62

  Ye golden bells, that toss your heaven-born fragrance
    On air around,
  And know to make the most harmonious music
    Without a sound!

  Ye fragile flowers, whose delicate, dear tendrils
    Upward do climb,
  Reveal to us the sweet, mysterious secret
    Of love sublime!

  Entwining with your gentle cunning fingers
    The ragged tree,
  Ye leave behind ye crowns and chaplets wondrous,
    Of jewelry!

  Not pearls nor diamonds of a radiance peerless,
    Not amethyst. 
  When softly swaying on the human bosom,
    Or flexile wrist,

  Can add to life and beauty lustrous splendor,
    With grace divine,
  As when ye wreathe on gnarled oak and holly
    Your trailing vine!

  Oh, love of God! in gracious ways unnumbered,
    With gentlest touch,
  Thou teachest men and pitifully showest
    Of patience much!

  We pray, dear Father, teach thine erring children
    This lesson meet—­
  To climb through fragile, earth born, human tendrils
    To life complete.

Quarterly, 1871.

AFTER DINNER SPEECHES

FRANKLIN CARTER ’62

According to common opinion Americans are the nation most addicted to speechmaking.  Laboulaye makes a good point by representing the son of a leading character in “Paris in America” discovered by his father before a large audience, in the full tide of political speech, and maintaining afterwards to the old gentleman that it is the common practice among all the boys to make a speech on every possible occasion, that they may thus fit themselves for public life.