Poems (Griffith)/The Orphan's Dream of Fame
The Orphan's Dream of Fame.
I LEARNED within myself to live. I saw,
E'en in my childhood, that the heart's bright buds
Withered and faded at the touch. I turned
From all life's empty, heartless mockeries,
And wept my griefs away on Nature's breast.
To me was given the deep and earnest love
Of holy solitude. I strayed alone
By rock and stream, and through the forest depths,
And found a sweet and dear companionship
In every sight and sound that greeted me
In all my wayward wanderings.
E'en in my childhood, that the heart's bright buds
Withered and faded at the touch. I turned
From all life's empty, heartless mockeries,
And wept my griefs away on Nature's breast.
To me was given the deep and earnest love
Of holy solitude. I strayed alone
By rock and stream, and through the forest depths,
And found a sweet and dear companionship
In every sight and sound that greeted me
In all my wayward wanderings.
I learned
Glad music from the lark's free, gushing song,
And my heart's sad and mournful minstrelsy
Found sweet interpretation in the low
And gentle wailings of the stricken dove.
My spirit rocked upon the swinging tops
Of the tall oaks; it danced upon the waves
That leaped in light and music or in wrath
Upon the shore; it rode upon the winds,
Soft whispering to the softly whispering leaves,
Or pealing like some deep-toned instrument
Through the green banners of the wood; it sailed
Upon the clouds that floated beautiful
Or dark with tempest; and it wandered oft
Above, to hold its joyous revelry
With all the thousand spirit-shapes that bathed
Their purple plumage in the rosy waves
Flooding the sunset. My dear mother's smile,
Caught by the stars from Eden, sweetly shone
In their pure light on my uplifted eyes,
And her soft words of cheer came to my soul
On every gale of morn, and neon, and eve,
And holy midnight. I was happy then,
Ay, happy, my lost mother was in heaven,
But Nature was my mother on the earth,
And both seemed e'er to love me well.
Glad music from the lark's free, gushing song,
And my heart's sad and mournful minstrelsy
Found sweet interpretation in the low
And gentle wailings of the stricken dove.
My spirit rocked upon the swinging tops
Of the tall oaks; it danced upon the waves
That leaped in light and music or in wrath
Upon the shore; it rode upon the winds,
Soft whispering to the softly whispering leaves,
Or pealing like some deep-toned instrument
Through the green banners of the wood; it sailed
Upon the clouds that floated beautiful
Or dark with tempest; and it wandered oft
Above, to hold its joyous revelry
With all the thousand spirit-shapes that bathed
Their purple plumage in the rosy waves
Flooding the sunset. My dear mother's smile,
Caught by the stars from Eden, sweetly shone
In their pure light on my uplifted eyes,
And her soft words of cheer came to my soul
On every gale of morn, and neon, and eve,
And holy midnight. I was happy then,
Ay, happy, my lost mother was in heaven,
But Nature was my mother on the earth,
And both seemed e'er to love me well.
At length
There came a change. The maddening dream of fame,
The wish to shine among earth's proudest, took
Possession of my soul. No more I loved
The voice of birds, the shouting of the stream,
And the green surging of the woods. I bowed
In seeming admiration of the throng,
And felt my cheek burn and my pulses leap
To the vile breath of those I could but hate
Within my secret soul. The sneering thought
That started fiercely upward from my heart,
Brightened to smiles upon my lips; my brain
Grew dizzy, and the tear was in my eye,
If with rude hand my spirit's chords were jarred
By those I longed to spurn beneath my feet.
I wildly struggled for the world's applause,
But trembled at the faintest word of blame.
As 'twere the voice of destiny. I won
The laurel crown, and with exulting heart
I felt its thrilling pressure on my brow:
But ah! a breath of poison from the crowd
Passed o'er its blooming leaves, and nought remained
But dust upon my temples. A bright name
Was my soul's idol, but a feeble blow
From hands unworthy, shattered and cast down
That wildly worshipped idol from its shrine,
For ever and for ever.
There came a change. The maddening dream of fame,
The wish to shine among earth's proudest, took
Possession of my soul. No more I loved
The voice of birds, the shouting of the stream,
And the green surging of the woods. I bowed
In seeming admiration of the throng,
And felt my cheek burn and my pulses leap
To the vile breath of those I could but hate
Within my secret soul. The sneering thought
That started fiercely upward from my heart,
Brightened to smiles upon my lips; my brain
Grew dizzy, and the tear was in my eye,
If with rude hand my spirit's chords were jarred
By those I longed to spurn beneath my feet.
I wildly struggled for the world's applause,
But trembled at the faintest word of blame.
As 'twere the voice of destiny. I won
The laurel crown, and with exulting heart
I felt its thrilling pressure on my brow:
But ah! a breath of poison from the crowd
Passed o'er its blooming leaves, and nought remained
But dust upon my temples. A bright name
Was my soul's idol, but a feeble blow
From hands unworthy, shattered and cast down
That wildly worshipped idol from its shrine,
For ever and for ever.
Now, alas!
Joy, love, hope, pride, ambition, all are dead
Within my breast. I smile in bitterness,
To think with what a madness of the soul
I sought a worthless bauble. Like a gleam
Of moonlight from the mountain, or the flash
Of an expiring meteor from the deep,
Or the red glow of sunset from the west,
That dream of fame has vanished from my life,
And now I feel no pang of vain regret
That it has perished thus.
Joy, love, hope, pride, ambition, all are dead
Within my breast. I smile in bitterness,
To think with what a madness of the soul
I sought a worthless bauble. Like a gleam
Of moonlight from the mountain, or the flash
Of an expiring meteor from the deep,
Or the red glow of sunset from the west,
That dream of fame has vanished from my life,
And now I feel no pang of vain regret
That it has perished thus.
But I look back
With tears and sighs on the departed years,
When breeze and billow chanted to my soul
Their morning hymn and evening psalm; when soft
And beautiful night's silver crescent shone
Upon my spirit, and when all the stars
Were to my eyes God's living poetry,
Traced by His hand upon the sky's blue scroll
Ah! I am twice an orphan, for, alas!
My mother Nature now is dead to me.
With tears and sighs on the departed years,
When breeze and billow chanted to my soul
Their morning hymn and evening psalm; when soft
And beautiful night's silver crescent shone
Upon my spirit, and when all the stars
Were to my eyes God's living poetry,
Traced by His hand upon the sky's blue scroll
Ah! I am twice an orphan, for, alas!
My mother Nature now is dead to me.
Louisville, 1852.