Poems; Iola Leroy

Kind and gracious princess, more than friend, I’ve come to thank thee for thy goodness, And to breathe into thy generous ears My last and sad farewell. I go to join The fortunes of my race, and to put aside All other bright advantages, save The approval of my conscience and the meed Of rightly doing.

What means, my son, this strange election? What wild chimera floats across thy mind? What sudden impulse moves thy soul? Thou who Hast only trod the court of kings, why seek Instead the paths of labor? Thou, whose limbs Have known no other garb than that which well Befits our kingly state, why rather choose The badge of servitude and toil?

Let me tell thee, gracious princess; ’tis no Sudden freak nor impulse wild that moves my mind. I feel an earnest purpose binding all My soul unto a strong resolve, which bids Me put aside all other ends and aims, Until the hour shall come when God—the God Our fathers loved and worshipped—shall break our chains, And lead our willing feet to freedom.

Listen to me, Moses: thou art young, And the warm blood of youth flushes thy veins Like generous wine; thou wearest thy manhood Like a crown; but what king e’er cast His diadem in the dust, to be trampled Down by every careless foot? Thou hast Bright dreams and glowing hopes; could’st thou not live Them out as well beneath the radiance Of our throne as in the shadow of those Bondage-darkened huts?

Within those darkened huts my mother plies her tasks, My father bends to unrequited toil; And bitter tears moisten the bread my brethren eat. And when I gaze upon their cruel wrongs The very purple on my limbs seems drenched With blood, the warm blood of my own kindred race; And then thy richest viands pall upon my taste, And discord jars in every tone of song. I cannot live in pleasure while they faint In pain.

How like a dream the past floats back: it seems But yesterday when I lay tossing upon My couch of pain, a torpor creeping through Each nerve, a fever coursing through my veins. And there I lay, dreaming of lilies fair, Of lotus flowers and past delights, and all The bright, glad hopes, that give to early life Its glow and flush; and thus day after day Dragged its slow length along, until, one morn, The breath of lilies, fainting on the air, Floated into my room, and then I longed once more To gaze upon the Nile, as on the face Of a familiar friend, whose absence long Had made a mournful void within the heart. I summoned to my side my maids, and bade Them place my sandals on my feet, and lead Me to the Nile, where I might bathe my weary Limbs within the cooling flood, and gather Healing from the sacred stream. I sought my favorite haunt, and, bathing, found New tides of vigor coursing through my veins. Refreshed, I sat me down to weave a crown of lotus leaves And lilies fair, and while I sat in a sweet Revery, dreaming of life and hope, I saw A little wicker-basket hidden among The flags and lilies of the Nile, and I called My maidens and said, “Nillias and Osiria Bring me that little ark which floats beside The stream.” They ran and brought me a precious burden. ’Twas an ark woven with rushes and daubed With slime, and in it lay a sleeping child; His little hand amid his clustering curls, And a bright flush upon his glowing cheek. He wakened with a smile, and reached out his hand To meet the welcome of the mother’s kiss, When strange faces met his gaze, and he drew back With a grieved, wondering look, while disappointment Shook the quivering lip that missed the mother’s Wonted kiss, and the babe lifted his voice and wept. Then my heart yearned towards him, and I resolved That I would brave my father’s wrath and save The child; but while I stood gazing upon His wondrous beauty, I saw beside me A Hebrew girl, her eyes bent on me With an eager, questioning look, and drawing Near, she timidly said, “shall I call a nurse?” I bade her go; she soon returned, and with her Came a woman of the Hebrew race, whose Sad, sweet, serious eyes seemed overflowing With a strange and sudden joy. I placed the babe Within her arms and said, “Nurse this child for me;” And the babe nestled there like one at home, While o’er the dimples of his face rippled The brightest, sweetest smiles, and I was well Content to leave him in her care; and well Did she perform her part. When many days had Passed she brought the child unto the palace; And one morning, while I sat toying with His curls and listening to the prattle of his Untrained lips, my father, proud and stately, Saw me bending o’er the child and said, “Charmian, whose child is this? who of my lords Calls himself father to this goodly child? He surely must be a happy man.” Then I said, “Father, he is mine. He is a Hebrew child that I have saved from death.” He Suddenly recoiled, as if an adder Had stung him, and said, “Charmian, take that Child hence. How darest thou bring a member Of that mean and servile race within my doors? Nay, rather let me send for Nechos, whose Ready sword shall rid me of his hateful presence.” Then kneeling at his feet, and catching Hold of his royal robes, I said, “Not so, Oh! honored father, he is mine; I snatched Him from the hungry jaws of death, and foiled The greedy crocodile of his prey; he has Eaten bread within thy palace walls, and thy Salt lies upon his fresh young lips; he has A claim upon thy mercy.” “Charmian,” he said “I have decreed that every man child of that Hated race shall die. The oracles have said The pyramids shall wane before their shadow, And from them a star shall rise whose light shall Spread over earth a baleful glow; and this is why I root them from the land; their strength is weakness To my throne. I shut them from the light lest they Bring darkness to my kingdom. Now, Charmian, Give me up the child, and let him die.” Then clasping the child closer to my heart, I said, “the pathway to his life is through my own; Around that life I throw my heart, a wall Of living, loving clay.” Dark as the thunder Clouds of distant lands became my father’s brow, And his eyes flashed with the fierce lightnings Of his wrath; but while I plead, with eager Eyes upturned, I saw a sudden change come Over him; his eyes beamed with unwonted Tenderness, and he said, “Charmian, arise, Thy prayer is granted; just then thy dead mother Came to thine eyes, and the light of Asenath Broke over thy face. Asenath was the light Of my home; the star that faded out too Suddenly from my dwelling, and left my life To darkness, grief and pain, and for her sake, Not thine, I’ll spare the child.” And thus I saved Thee twice—once from the angry sword and once From the devouring flood. Moses, thou art Doubly mine; as such I claimed thee then, as such I claim thee now. I’ve nursed no other child Upon my knee, and pressed upon no other Lips the sweetest kisses of my love, and now, With rash and careless hand, thou dost thrust aside that love. There was a painful silence, a silence So hushed and still that you might have almost Heard the hurried breathing of one and the quick Throbbing of the other’s heart: for Moses, He was slow of speech, but she was eloquent With words of tenderness and love, and had breathed Her full heart into her lips; but there was Firmness in the young man’s choice, and he beat back The opposition of her lips with the calm Grandeur of his will, and again he essayed to speak.

Gracious lady, thou remembrest well The Hebrew nurse to whom thou gavest thy foundling. That woman was my mother: from her lips I Learned the grand traditions of our race that float. With all their weird and solemn beauty, around Our wrecked and blighted fortunes. How oft! With kindling eye and glowing cheek, forgetful Of the present pain, she would lead us through The distant past: the past, hallowed by deeds Of holy faith and lofty sacrifice. How she would tell us of Abraham, The father of our race, that he dwelt in Ur; Of the Chaldees, and when the Chaldean king Had called him to his sacrifice, that he Had turned from his dumb idols to the living God, and wandered out from kindred, home and race, Led by his faith in God alone; and she would Tell us,—(we were three,) my brother Aaron, The Hebrew girl thou sentest to call a nurse, And I, her last, her loved and precious child; She would tell us that one day our father Abraham heard a voice, bidding him offer Up in sacrifice the only son of his Beautiful and beloved Sarah; that the father’s Heart shrank not before the bitter test of faith, But he resolved to give his son to God As a burnt offering upon Moriah’s mount; That the uplifted knife glittered in the morning Sun, when, sweeter than the music of a thousand Harps, he heard a voice bidding him stay his hand, And spare the child; and how his faith, like gold Tried in the fiercest fire, shone brighter through Its fearful test. And then she would tell us Of a promise, handed down from sire to son, That God, the God our fathers loved and worshiped, Would break our chains, and bring to us a great Deliverance; that we should dwell in peace Beneath our vines and palms, our flocks and herds Increase, and joyful children crowd our streets; And then she would lift her eyes unto the far Off hills and tell us of the patriarchs Of our line, who sleep in distant graves within That promised land; and now I feel the hour Draws near which brings deliverance to our race.

These are but the dreams of thy young fancy; I cannot comprehend thy choice. I have heard Of men who have waded through slaughter To a throne; of proud ambitions, struggles Fierce and wild for some imagined good; of men Who have even cut in twain the crimson threads That lay between them and a throne; but I Never heard of men resigning ease for toil, The splendor of a palace for the squalor Of a hut, and casting down a diadem To wear a servile badge. Sadly she gazed Upon the fair young face lit with its lofty Faith and high resolves—the dark prophetic eyes Which seemed to look beyond the present pain Unto the future greatness of his race. As she stood before him in the warm Loveliness of her ripened womanhood, Her languid eyes glowed with unwonted fire, And the bright tropical blood sent its quick Flushes o’er the olive of her cheek, on which Still lay the lingering roses of her girlhood. Grief, wonder, and surprise flickered like shadows O’er her face as she stood slowly crushing With unconscious hand the golden tassels Of her crimson robe. She had known life only By its brightness, and could not comprehend The grandeur of the young man’s choice; but she Felt her admiration glow before the earnest Faith that tore their lives apart and led him To another destiny. She had hoped to see The crown of Egypt on his brow, the sacred Leopard skin adorn his shoulders, and his seat The throne of the proud Pharaoh’s; but now her Dream had faded out and left a bitter pang Of anguish in its stead. And thus they parted, She to brood in silence o’er her pain, and he To take his mission from the hands of God And lead his captive race to freedom. With silent lips but aching heart she bowed Her queenly head and let him pass, and he Went forth to share the fortune of his race, Esteeming that as better far than pleasures Bought by sin and gilded o’er with vice. And he had chosen well, for on his brow God poured the chrism of a holy work. And thus anointed he has stood a bright Ensample through the changing centuries of time

It was a great change from the splendor, light And pleasure of a palace to the lowly huts Of those who sighed because of cruel bondage. As he passed Into the outer courts of that proud palace, He paused a moment just to gaze upon The scenes ’mid which his early life had passed— The pleasant haunts amid the fairest flowers,— The fountains tossing on the air their silver spray,— The statues breathing music soft and low To greet the first faint flushes of the morn,— The obelisks that rose in lofty grandeur From their stony beds—the sphynxes gaunt and grim, With unsolved riddles on their lips—and all The bright creation’s painters art and sculptors Skill had gathered in those regal halls, where mirth And dance, and revelry, and song had chased With careless feet the bright and fleeting hours. He was leaving all; but no regrets came Like a shadow o’er his mind, for he had felt The quickening of a higher life, as if his Soul had wings and he were conscious of their growth; And yet there was a tender light in those Dark eyes which looked their parting on the scenes Of beauty, where his life had been a joyous Dream enchanted with delight; but he trampled On each vain regret as on a vanquished foe, And went forth a strong man, girded with lofty Purposes and earnest faith. He journeyed on Till palaces and domes and lofty fanes, And gorgeous temples faded from his sight, And the lowly homes of Goshen came in view. There he saw the women of his race kneading Their tale of bricks; the sons of Abraham Crouching beneath their heavy burdens. He saw The increasing pallor on his sisters cheek, The deepening shadows on his mother’s brow, The restless light that glowed in Aaron’s eye, As if a hidden fire were smouldering In his brain; and bending o’er his mother In a tender, loving way, he said, “Mother, I’ve come to share the fortunes of my race,— To dwell within these lowly huts,—to wear The badge of servitude and toil, and eat The bitter bread of penury and pain.” A sudden light beamed from his mother’s eye, And she said, “How’s this, my son? but yesterday Two Hebrews, journeying from On to Goshen, Told us they had passed the temple of the Sun But dared not enter, only they had heard That it was a great day in On; that thou hadst Forsworn thy kindred, tribe and race; hadst bowed Thy knee to Egypt’s vain and heathen worship, Hadst denied the God of Abraham, of Isaac, And of Jacob, and from henceforth wouldst Be engrafted in Pharaoh’s regal line, And be called the son of Pharaoh’s daughter. When thy father Amram heard the cruel news He bowed his head upon his staff and wept. But I had stronger faith than that. By faith I hid thee when the bloody hands of Pharaoh Were searching ’mid our quivering heart strings Dooming our sons to death; by faith I wove The rushes of thine ark and laid thee ’mid The flags and lilies of the Nile, and saw The answer to that faith when Pharaoh’s daughter Placed thee in my arms, and bade me nurse the child For her; and by that faith sustained, I heard As idle words the cruel news that stabbed Thy father like a sword.” “The Hebrews did not hear aright; last week There was a great day in On, from Esoan’s gate Unto the mighty sea; the princes, lords And chamberlains of Egypt were assembled; The temple of the sun was opened. Isis And Osiris were unveiled before the people, Apis and Orus were crowned with flowers; Golden censers breathed their fragrance on the air; The sacrifice was smoking on the altar; The first fruits of the Nile lay on the tables Of the sun: the music rose in lofty swells, Then sank in cadences so soft and low Till all the air grew tremulous with rapture. The priests of On were there, with sacred palms Within their hands and lotus leaves upon their Brows; Pharaoh and his daughter sat waiting In their regal chairs; all were ready to hear Me bind my soul to Egypt, and to swear Allegiance to her gods. The priests of On Drew near to lay their hands upon my head And bid me swear, ‘Now, by Osiris, judge Of all the dead, and Isis, mother of us All,’ that henceforth I’d forswear my kindred, Tribe and race; would have no other gods Than those of Egypt; would be engrafted Into Pharaoh’s royal line, and be called The son of Pharaoh’s daughter. Then, mother Dear, I lived the past again. Again I sat Beside thee, my lips apart with childish Wonder, my eager eyes uplifted to thy Glowing face, and my young soul gathering Inspiration from thy words. Again I heard Thee tell the grand traditions of our race, The blessed hopes and glorious promises That weave their golden threads among the sombre Tissues of our lives, and shimmer still amid The gloom and shadows of our lot. Again I heard thee tell of Abraham, with his constant Faith and earnest trust in God, unto whom The promise came that in his seed should all The nations of the earth be blessed. Of Isaac Blessing with disappointed lips his first-born son, From whom the birthright had departed. Of Jacob, With his warm affections and his devious ways, Flying before the wrath of Esau; how he Slumbered in the wild, and saw amid his dreams A ladder reaching to the sky, on which God’s Angels did descend, and waking, with a solemn Awe o’ershadowing all, his soul exclaimed, ‘How Dreadful is this place. Lo! God is here, and I Knew it not.’ Of Joseph, once a mighty prince Within this land, who shrank in holy horror From the soft white hand that beckoned him to sin Whose heart, amid the pleasures, pomp and pride Of Egypt, was ever faithful to his race, And when his life was trembling on its frailest chord He turned his dying eyes to Canaan, and made His brethren swear that they would make his grave Among the patriarchs of his line, because Machpelah’s cave, where Abraham bowed before The sons of Heth, and bought a place to lay His loved and cherished dead, was dearer to his Dying heart than the proudest tomb amid The princely dead of Egypt. Then, like the angels, mother dear, who met Our father Jacob on his way, thy words Came back as messengers of light to guide My steps, and I refused to be called the son Of Pharaoh’s daughter. I saw the priests of On Grow pale with fear, an ashen terror creeping O’er the princess’ face, while Pharaoh’s brow grew Darker than the purple of his cloak. But I Endured, as seeing him who hides his face Behind the brightness of his glory. And thus I left the pomp and pride of Egypt To cast my lot among the people of my race.”