Press close, bare-bosom'd night! Press close, magnetic, nourishing night! Smile, O voluptuous, cool-breath'd earth! Earth of the slumbering and liquid trees; Earth of departed sunset; earth of the mountains, misty-topt! Earth of the vitreous pour of the full moon, just tinged with blue! Earth of shine and dark, mottling the tide of the river! Earth of the limpid gray of clouds, brighter and clearer for my sake! Smile, for your lover comes! Prodigal, you have given me love! Therefore I to you give love! 31 I believe a leaf of grass is no less than the journey-work of the stars, And the running blackberry would adorn the parlors of heaven, And I could come every afternoon of my life to look at the farmer's girl boiling her iron tea-kettle and baking short-cake. I find I incorporate gneiss, coal, long-threaded moss, fruits, grains, esculent roots, 240 And am stucco'd with quadrupeds and birds all over, And have distanced what is behind me for good reasons, And call anything close again, when I desire it. In vain the speeding or shyness; In vain the plutonic rocks send their old heat against my approach; In vain the mastodon retreats beneath its own powder'd bones; In vain objects stand leagues off, and assume manifold shapes; In vain the ocean settling in hollows, and the great monsters lying low; In vain the buzzard houses herself with the sky; In vain the snake slides through the creepers and logs; In vain the elk takes to the inner passes of the woods; In vain the razor-bill'd auk sails far north to Labrador; I follow quickly, I ascend to the nest in the fissure of the cliff. 32 I think I could turn and live with animals, they are so placid and self-contain❜d; I stand and look at them long and long. They do not sweat and whine about their condition; They do not lie awake in the dark and weep for their sins; They do not make me sick discussing their duty to God; Not one is dissatisfied-not one is demented with the mania of owning things; Not one kneels to another, nor to his kind that lived thousands of years ago; Not one is respectable or industrious over the whole earth. So they show their relations to me, and I accept them; They bring me tokens of myself-they evince them plainly in their possession. 250 I wonder where they get those tokens: Did I pass that way huge times ago, and negligently drop them? Gathering and showing more always and with velocity, Not too exclusive toward the reachers of my remembrancers; Infinite and omnigenous, and the like of these among them; Picking out here one that I love, and now go with him on brotherly terms. A gigantic beauty of a stallion, fresh and responsive to my caresses, Head high in the forehead, wide between the ears, Limbs glossy and supple, tail dusting the ground, Eyes full of sparkling wickedness-ears finely cut, flexibly moving. His nostrils dilate, as my heels embrace him; His well-built limbs tremble with pleasure, as we race around and return. I but use you a moment, then I resign you, stallion; Why do I need your paces, when I myself out-gallop them? Even, as I stand or sit, passing faster than you. 34 Now I tell what I knew in Texas in my early youth; (I tell not the fall of Alamo, Not one escaped to tell the fall of Alamo, The hundred and fifty are dumb yet at Alamo;) 270 280 'Tis the tale of the murder in cold blood of four hundred and twelve young men. Retreating, they had form'd in a hollow square, with their baggage for breastworks; Nine hundred lives out of the surrounding enemy's, nine times their number, was the price they took in advance; Their colonel was wounded and their ammunition gone; They treated for an honorable capitulation, receiv'd writing and seal, gave up their arms, and march'd back prisoners of war. They were the glory of the race of rangers; Matchless with horse, rifle, song, supper, courtship, Large, turbulent, generous, handsome, proud, and affectionate, Not a single one over thirty years of age. 290 The second First-day morning they were brought out in squads, and massacredit was beautiful early summer; The work commenced about five o'clock, and was over by eight. None obey'd the command to kneel; Some made a mad and helpless rush-some stood stark and straight; A few fell at once, shot in the temple or heart-the living and dead lay together; The maim'd and mangled dug in the dirt-the newcomers saw them there; 300 These were despatch'd with bayonets, or batter'd with the blunts of muskets; A youth not seventeen years old seiz'd his assassin till two more came to release him; The three were all torn, and cover'd with the boy's blood. At eleven o'clock began the burning of the bodies: That is the tale of the murder of the four hundred and twelve young men. 35 Would you hear of an old-fashion'd sea-fight? Would you learn who won by the light of the moon and stars? List to the story as my grandmother's father, the sailor, told it to me. Our foe was no skulk in his ship, I tell you, (said he;) His was the surly English pluck-and there is no tougher or truer, and never was, and never will be; Along the lower'd eve he came, horribly raking us. We closed with him-the yards entangled-the cannon touch'd; My captain lash'd fast with his own hands. We had receiv'd some eighteen-pound shots under the water; 310 On our lower gun-deck two large pieces had burst at the first fire, killing all around, and blowing up overhead. Fighting at sun-down, fighting at dark; Ten o'clock at night, the full moon well up, our leaks on the gain, and five feet of water reported; The master-at-arms loosing the prisoners confined in the afterhold, to give them a chance for themselves. The transit to and from the magazine is now stopt by the sentinels, They see so many strange faces, they do not know whom to trust. Our frigate takes fire; The other asks if we demand quarter? If our colors are struck, and the fighting is done? Now I laugh content, for I hear the voice of my little captain, 320 We have not struck, he composedly cries, we have just begun our part of the fighting. Only three guns are in use; One is directed by the captain himself against the enemy's mainmast; Two, well served with grape and canister, silence his musketry and clear his decks. The tops alone second the fire of this little battery, especially the main-top; Not a moment's cease; The leaks gain fast on the pumps-the fire eats toward the powder-magazine. One of the pumps has been shot away-it is generally thought we are sinking. Serene stands the little captain; He is not hurried-his voice is neither high nor low; His eyes give more light to us than our battle-lanterns. Toward twelve at night, there in the beams of the moon, they surrender to us. Stretch'd and still lies the midnight; 36 Two great hulls motionless on the breast of the darkness; 330 Our vessel riddled and slowly sinking-preparations to pass to the one we have conquered; 340 The captain on the quarter-deck coldly giving his orders through a countenance white as a sheet; Near by, the corpse of the child that serv'd in the cabin; The dead face of an old salt with long white hair and carefully curl'd whiskers; The flames, spite of all that can be done, flickering aloft and below; The husky voices of the two or three officers yet fit for duty; Formless stacks of bodies, and bodies by themselves-dabs of flesh upon the masts and spars, Cut of cordage, dangle of rigging, slight shock of the soothe of waves, Black and impassive guns, litter of powder-parcels, strong scent, Delicate sniffs of sea-breeze, smells of sedgy grass and fields by the shore, deathmessages given in charge to survivors, The hiss of the surgeon's knife, the gnawing teeth of his saw, 350 Wheeze, cluck, swash of falling blood, short wild scream, and long, dull, tapering What is known I strip away; I launch all men and women forward with me into THE UNKNOWN. The clock indicates the moment-but what does eternity indicate? We have thus far exhausted trillions of winters and summers; Births have brought us richness and variety, And other births will bring us richness and variety. I do not call one greater and one smaller; That which fills its period and place is equal to any. Were mankind murderous or jealous upon you, my brother, my sister? I am an acme of things accomplish'd, and I an encloser of things to be. My feet strike an apex of the apices of the stairs; On every step bunches of ages, and larger bunches between the steps; Rise after rise bow the phantoms behind me; Afar down I see the huge first Nothing-I know I was even there; Long I was hugged close-long and long. Immense have been the preparations for me, Faithful and friendly the arms that have help'd me. Cycles ferried my cradle, rowing and rowing like cheerful boatmen; They sent influences to look after what was to hold me. Before I was born out of my mother, generations guided me; For it the nebula cohered to an orb, The long slow strata piled to rest it on, Vast vegetables gave it sustenance, Monstrous sauroids transported it in their mouths, and deposited it with care. All forces have been steadily employ'd to complete and delight me; Now on this spot I stand with my robust Soul. 46 I know I have the best of time and space, and was never measured, and never will be measured. I tramp a perpetual journey-(come listen all!) My signs are a rain-proof coat, good shoes, and a staff cut from the woods; No friend of mine takes his ease in my chair; I have no chair, no church, no philosophy; I lead no man to a dinner-table, library, or exchange; But each man and each woman of you I lead upon a knoll, My left hand hooking you round the waist, My right hand pointing to landscapes of continents, and a plain public road. Not I-not any one else, can travel that road for you, You must travel it for yourself. It is not far-it is within reach; Perhaps you have been on it since you were born, and did not know; Shoulder your duds, dear son, and I will mine, and let us hasten forth, If you tire, give me both burdens, and rest the chuff of your hand on my hip, For after we start, we never lie by again. 300 400 This day before dawn I ascended a hill, and look'd at the crowded heaven, pleasure and knowledge of everything in them, shall we be fill'd and satisfied And my Spirit said, No, we but level that lift, to pass and continue beyond. You are also asking me questions, and I hear you; I answer that I cannot answer-you must find out for yourself. Sit a while, dear son; Here are biscuits to eat, and here is milk to drink; 410 But as soon as you sleep, and renew yourself in sweet clothes, I kiss you with a good-bye kiss, and open the gate for your egress hence. Long enough have you dream'd contemptible dreams; Now I wash the gum from your eyes; You must habit yourself to the dazzle of the light, and of every moment of your life. |