Part 17 (1/2)

LIFE FOR LIBERTY.

FITZ-GREENE HALLECK, a noted American poet. Born in Guilford, Conn., July 8, 1790; died November 19, 1867.

Thy voice sounds like a prophet's word, And in its hollow tones are heard The thanks of millions yet to be.

Come when his task of fame is wrought, Come with her laurel-leaf, blood-bought, Come in her crowning hour, and then Thy sunken eye's unearthly light To him is welcome as the sight Of sky and stars to prison'd men; Thy grasp is welcome as the hand Of brother in a foreign land; Thy summons welcome as the cry That told the Indian isles were nigh To the world-seeking Genoese, When the land wind, from woods of palm, And orange groves, and fields of balm, Blew o'er the Haytian seas.

GENOA.

MURAT HALSTEAD, an American journalist. Born at Ross, Ohio, September 2, 1829. From ”Genoa--the Home of Columbus,” a paper in _Cosmopolitan_, May, 1892.

The Italian coast all around the Gulf of Genoa is mountainous, and the mountains crowd each other almost into the sea. Land that can be built upon or cultivated is scarce, and the narrow strips that are possible are on the sunny southern slopes. The air is delicious. The orange trees in December lean over the garden walls, heavy with golden spheres, and the gra.s.s is green on the hills, and when a light snow falls the roses blush through the soft veil of lace, and are modest but not ashamed, as they bow their heads. The mountains are like a wall of iron against the world, and from them issues a little river whose waters are pure as the dew, until the washerwomen use them and spread clothing on the wide s.p.a.ces of clean gravel to dry. The harbor is easily defended, and with the same expensive equipment would be strong as Gibraltar. It is in this isolation that the individuality of Genoa, stamped upon so many chapters of world-famous history, grew. There is so little room for a city that the buildings are necessarily lofty. The streets are narrow and steep.

The pavements are blocks of stone that would average from two to three feet in length, one foot in width, and of unknown depth. Evidently they are not constructed for any temporary purpose, but to endure forever.

When, for a profound reason, a paving-stone is taken up it is speedily replaced, with the closest attention to exact restoration, and then it is again a rock of ages.

THE CELEBRATION AT HAMBURG.

Among the celebrations of the 400th anniversary of the discovery of America, that of the city of Hamburg, in Germany, will occupy a prominent place. On October 1st an exhibition will be opened at which objects will be on view that bear on the history of the act of discovery, on the condition of geographical science of the time, and on the conditions of the inhabitants of America at the time of the discovery. Side by side with these will be exhibited whatever can show the condition of America at the present time. On the date of the discovery of the little Island of Guanahani--that is, October 12th--the celebration proper will take place. The exercises will consist of songs and music and a goodly array of speeches. In the evening, tableaux and processions will be performed in the largest hall of the city. The scenery, costumes, and implements used will all be got up as they were at the time of the discovery, so as to furnish a real representation of the age of Columbus.

SEEKER AND SEER--A RHYME FOR THE DEDICATION OF THE WORLD'S FAIR.

EDWARD J. HARDING, in the Chicago _Tribune_, September 17, 1892.

I.

What came ye forth to see?

Why from the sunward regions of the palm, And piney headlands by the northern main, From Holland's watery ways, and parching Spain, From pleasant France and storied Italy, From India's patience, and from Egypt's calm, To this far city of a soil new-famed Come ye in festal guise to-day, Charged with no fatal ”gifts of Greece,”

Nor Punic treaties double-tongued, But proffering hands of amity, And speaking messages of peace, With drum-beats ushered, and with shouts acclaimed, While cannon-echoes l.u.s.ty-lung'd Reverberate far away?

IV.

Our errand here to-day Hath warrant fair, ye say; We come with you to consecrate A hero's, ay a prophet's monument; Yet needs he none, who was so great; Vainly they build in Cuba's isle afar His sepulcher beside the sapphire sea; He hath for cenotaph a continent, For funeral wreaths, the forests waving free, And round his grave go ceaselessly The morning and the evening star.

Yet is it fit that ye should praise him best, For ye his true descendants are, A spirit-begotten progeny; Wherefore to thee, fair city of the West, From elder lands we gladly came To grace a prophet's fame.

V.

Beauteous upon the waters were the wings That bore glad tidings o'er the leaping wave Of sweet Hesperian isles, more bland and fair Than lover's looks or bard's imaginings; And blest was he, the hero brave, Who first the tyrannous deeps defied, And o'er the wilderness of waters wide A sun-pursuing highway did prepare For those true-hearted exiles few The house of Liberty that reared anew.

Nor fails he here of honor due.

These goodly structures ye behold, These towering piles in order brave, From whose tall crests the pennons wave Like tropic plumage, gules and gold; These ample halls, wherein ye view Whate'er is fairest wrought and best-- South with North vying, East with West, And arts of yore with science new-- Bear witness for us how religiously We cherish here his memory.

VI.

Yet sure, the adventurous Genoese Did never in his most enlightened hours Forecast the high, the immortal destinies Of this dear land of ours.

Nay, could ye call him hither from his tomb, Think ye that he would mark with soul elate A kingless people, a schismatic State, Nor on his work invoke perpetual doom?

Though the whole Sacred College o'er and o'er p.r.o.nounce him sainted, prophet was he none Who to Cathaia's legendary sh.o.r.e Deemed that his bark a path had won.

In sooth, our Western pioneer Was all as prescient as he Who cried, ”The desert shall exult, The wild shall blossom as the rose,”