VIII

Virginia gave us this imperial man
Cast in the massive mould
Of those high-statured ages old
Which into grander forms our mortal metal ran;
She gave us this unblemished gentleman: 
What shall we give her back but love and praise
As in the dear old unestranged days 370
Before the inevitable wrong began? 
Mother of States and undiminished men,
Thou gavest us a country, giving him,
And we owe alway what we owed thee then: 
The boon thou wouldst have snatched from us agen
Shines as before with no abatement dim,
A great man’s memory is the only thing
With influence to outlast the present whim
And bind us as when here he knit our golden ring. 
All of him that was subject to the hours 380
Lies in thy soil and makes it part of ours: 
Across more recent graves,
Where unresentful Nature waves
Her pennons o’er the shot-ploughed sod,
Proclaiming the sweet Truce of God,
We from this consecrated plain stretch out
Our hands as free from afterthought or doubt
As here the united North
Poured her embrowned manhood forth
In welcome of our savior and thy son. 390
Through battle we have better learned thy worth,
The long-breathed valor and undaunted will,
Which, like his own, the day’s disaster done,
Could, safe in manhood, suffer and be still. 
Both thine and ours the victory hardly won;
If ever with distempered voice or pen
We have misdeemed thee, here we take it back,
And for the dead of both don common black. 
Be to us evermore as thou wast then,
As we forget thou hast not always been, 400
Mother of States and unpolluted men,
Virginia, fitly named from England’s manly queen!

AN ODE

FOR THE FOURTH OF JULY, 1876

I

1.

Entranced I saw a vision in the cloud
That loitered dreaming in yon sunset sky,
Full of fair shapes, half creatures of the eye,
Half chance-evoked by the wind’s fantasy
In golden mist, an ever-shifting crowd: 
There, ’mid unreal forms that came and went
In air-spun robes, of evanescent dye,
A woman’s semblance shone preeminent;
Not armed like Pallas, not like Hera proud,
But, as on household diligence intent, 10
Beside her visionary wheel she bent
Like Arete or Bertha, nor than they
Less queenly in her port; about her knee
Glad children clustered confident in play: 
Placid her pose, the calm of energy;
And over her broad brow in many a round
(That loosened would have gilt her garment’s hem),
Succinct, as toil prescribes, the hair was wound
In lustrous coils, a natural diadem. 
The cloud changed shape, obsequious to the whim 20