Volume 3 — THOUGHT.

Life is but an outer wall Round the realm of thought unseen; Ah! to let the drawbridge fall Leading to that magic hall! Ah! to let creation in. Kings that with the world contended, What remains of all the splendid Misery their hands have wrought? Hushed and silent now the thunder They have made the world rock under; But the ages bow in wonder To a thought. Ah! the many tragic parts That are played by human hearts In that golden drama, fame. These are minor actors truly, That should not be seen unduly, Letting idle recollection Trifle with the play's perfection, Letting an unwritten anguish Make the brilliant pageant languish. Alas for every hero's story, That the woes which chiefly make it Must surge from the heart, or break it, And show the stuff that fashions glory. Pyramids and templed wonders At the best are wise men's blunders; The subtle spell of thought and fancy, It is Nature's necromancy. In that land where all things real Blossom into the ideal, In that realm of hidden powers Moving this gross world of ours, He that would inherit fame, Let him on the magic wall Of some bright, ideal hall Write his name; He and glory then shall be Comrades through eternity. While the deeds of mighty kings Sleep the sleep of meaner things, Thoughts enclosed in words of granite Revolutionize our planet. And, itself a new creation, Many an enchanted tune, As of nightingale's in June, Comes floating down in long vibration, To the chorus of the hours Lending its harmonial powers, Or through Time's resounding arches Playing Nature's solemn marches, To whose beat the marshalled nations Pass in steady generations. But deem not the thoughts unspoken, Silent despots of the brain, Build their airy halls in vain, Die and leave behind no token. As the stars upon the ether Play their golden monody, Flashing on dusk-featured night The soft miracle of light; So upon a finer ether, A spiritual emanation From the whole mind of creation, Plays the brain incessantly; And each thought is a vibration, Running like a poet's rhyme Down the endless chords of time, And on each responsive brain Dropping in a silver rain Of divinest inspiration. When the whirlwind rush of war Passes, and is heard no more, Voices crushed beneath its din Rise and their long reign begin; Thoughts like burning arrows hurled At the tyrants of the world, Thoughts that rend like battle axes Till wrong's giant hand relaxes, Thoughts that open prison gates And strike the chains of prostrate limb, That turn the current of the fates, Like God's commissioned cherubim With divine authority To proclaim creation free, And plant in human hearts the seeds That shall grow to noble deeds. Ha! when genius climbs the throne Sacred to oppression grown, And from his seat plucks tyranny; When, with thoughts that pierce like flame, Songs, and every word a fame, She crowns imperial Liberty, Then shall the usurper, glory, End his foul and brutal story, And manhood evermore shall be A synonym of liberty.