48 Charles Robert Darufhi. 



Ah, we coukl only listen when he told 

 How, through tlie antique ages to the new, 

 Life from a barbarous toil and struggle grew, 

 Like a staunch creeper from an arid mold — 



How savage instinct in the strong and bold 

 Crushed out the weak, and how the mightier few 

 Roamed in their wild blood-thirstiness and slew 

 The fierce-fanged slayers that were Kings of old. 



He pictured to our eyes the carnal strife, 

 The eternal woe and pathos of the earth. 

 And awful brooding death that makes us mute — 



And thus he spoke the story of our life, 



The growth of mind from some tenebrious birth. 



The soul of man developed fi-om the brute. 



Since he has been, our craving thought has gained 

 Fresh wings and ampler airs; his valor broke 

 A slavery which had meekly worn its yoke, 

 A fear which rose to courage as it waned; 



He shaped the years he lived in and attained 

 The leadership of people; he awoke 

 A dream of freedom with each measured stroke 

 Cut at the shackles which had held us chain(><l. 



Through him the science of the age became 

 A thing so near to every yearning heart, 

 So full of what the future man shall know, 



That in our nineteenth century his proud name 

 Glows beacon-wise before us — is a part 

 Of all that song and wisdom can bestow. 



Yes, wilder, sweeter than the music sung 

 By any lute-voice in this age of ours, 

 Sweeter than old child-fancy when it flowers 

 In trembling beauty on a poet's tongue. 



Was that new cry Avithin us when he flung 



His thought to men — that precious thought which dowers 



Life with a deeper sense of deathless powders, 



Hope with the faith that it is ever young. 



