Classic Poem

INSCRIBED ON THE ORIGINAL MANUSCRIPT

Unclasp me, Stranger; and unfold,
With trembling care, my leaves of gold,
Rich in Gothic portraiture —
If yet, alas! a leaf endure.

In R ABIDA 's monastic fane
I cannot ask, and ask in vain.
The language of C ASTILE I speak;
Mid many an Arab, many a Greek,
Old in the days of C HARLEMAIN ;
When minstrel-music wandered round,
And Science, waking, blessed the sound.

No earthly thought has here a place,
The cowl let down on every face;
Yet here, in consecrated dust,
Here would I sleep, if sleep I must
From G ENOA when C OLUMBUS came
(At once her glory and her shame),
'T was here he caught the holy flame.
'T was here the generous vow he made;
His banners on the altar laid.

Here, tempest-worn and desolate,
A Pilot, journeying through the wild,
Stopt to solicit at the gate
A pittance for his child
'T was here, unknowing and unknown,
He stood upon the threshold-stone.
But hope was his — a faith sublime,
That triumphs over place and time;
And here, his mighty labor done,
And his course of glory run,
A while as more than man he stood,
So large the debt of gratitude!

One hallowed morn, methought, I felt
As if a soul within me dwelt!
But who arose and gave to me
The sacred trust I keep for thee,
And in his cell at even-tide
Knelt before the cross and died —
Inquire not now. His name no more
Glimmers on the chancel-floor,
Near the lights that ever shine
Before S T M ARY'S blessed shrine.

To me one little hour devote,
And lay thy staff and scrip beside thee;
Read in the temper that he wrote,
And may his gentle spirit guide thee!
My leaves forsake me, one by one;
The book-worm through and through has gone.
O, haste — unclasp me, and unfold;
The tale within was never told!