THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF NORTH CAROLINA AT CHAPEL HILL ENDOWED BY THE DIALECTIC AND PHILANTHROPIC SOCIETIES HT170 .HUU V.'^iy.^^^f'TVOFN.C. AT CHAPEL HILL IIIIIIIIIIU 10003076653 This book is due at the WALTER R. DAVIS LIBRARY on the last date stamped under "Date Due." If not on hold it may be renewed by bringing it to the library. DATE °KC 3 1 200! ^^^^ RET DUE ^_ CI Form No. 513. Rev. 1/84 1 HUMANITY A VISION - A REALITY A POEM BY WM. TOD HELMUTH NEW YORK E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY 31 West Twenty-third Street 1887 Copyright E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY 1887 Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2015 https://archive.org/details/humanityvisionarOOhelm A VISION. -'"■^ 'Twas eve in Pisa : The lovely haze of an Italian sky — Known to no other clime — was dropping soft Upon the distant hills, whose purple crests Rose clearly on the azure horizon ; And from the summit of the Campanile — Which ever leans defiant of the law That holds the planets in their devious course — The heavy and harmonious bells rang out The compline call. Over the Baptistry, The full-orb'd moon, with silvery halo bright, The dome and figure of St. John be- deck'd. A balmy air was wafted from the sea, Stirring the soil from far Jeru- salem, Which round the moonlit Campo Santo lay,* As, with a heart on contemplation bent, I entered the Duomo and sat down Beneath Del Sarto's picture of St. Agnes, Whose face, angelic in its purity. In peaceful adoration seems to rest. * In the year 1223 the Pisans brought soil from Jerusalem and placed it around the Campo Santo, that the bodies of distinguished persons might be buried in the sacred earth. Above me, from the darkness of the dome, Suspended still there hung the lamp of bronze, Which to the mind of Galileo taught The measurement of time ; and as the youth,* Whose heart triumphant then was throbbing loud, His finger on his beating pulses laid. He found the index to the health of man. Then, as the incense-bear- ing air in wreaths Was borne aloft into the vaulted roof. The red-robed cardinals in reverence bent Before the altar high, while solemn chaunt Resounded sweet through arch and architrave. * Galileo was but eighteen years old when he discovered the rhythm of the pulse. A vision fair insensibly did steal Over my senses in that holy place, And, as the pendulum swung on, there came A soft sweet music with a rushing wind, And lo ! St. Luke, the lov'd physician, rose Stretching his hands aloft o'er '^^^ i all the earth. Breathing a blessing and a prayer for those Who to the suffering and the sick devote The tenure of their lives. Then, as the strains, Reechoing, died within the sacred arch. In voice harmonious to my Hst'ning ear The great Recorder of the Gospel spake : — " 'Tis not the sounding word or brazen tone, " Or knowledge deep and vast as boundless seas ; " Or keen intelligence which ever looks "Into the motives of which acts are born; " Nor gold which proselytes the world and buys " Men's hearts and souls, fooling the gaping crowd, " By cloaking ignorance or gilding sin ; " Nor is it yet the skilful hand that opes " The sacred cavities of thought and life "In nature's citadel, — defies disease, "And rears a bulwark 'gainst advancing death, — 'Tis not all these, or yet the occult lore Of root and mineral and herb that make The true physician. One or all may raise His name in worldly estima- tion high, And, trumpet-like, proclaim him as a God Around the circle of his habitat ; — And men may call him great and women bow E'en at the mention of his very name. But here 'mong saints and heav'nly hosts, who look Beyond the flimsy veil appearance casts Over the action of each mortal man, The first, great, grand absorbing attribute Of him who tends the suffering of his race, Must be that large Humanity, which holds Within itself enduring faith and love, — Humanity, which recks not of itself. And from whose soil indigenous there springs Sweet charity for every fellow-man ; Humanity which all resplendent shone, Throughout the pathway of the Son of God, Who at the marriage feast of Cana turned The water into wine, and wept aloud Beside the grave of Lazarus dead, and who, With pitying voice and mild, forgiving eyes, " Forgave her taken in th' adult'rous act When, conscience-stricken, her accusers fled." Starting I woke ; the organ strain had ceased ; The ghmmering taper to the Virgin burned Before the shrine, and stillness reign'd supreme. With echoing footsteps through the arches dark Into the open night I passed. The stars Looked down upon the city sleeping there Beneath the moonlit sky. And as I stood Upon the lighted bridge which Arno spans. The faint halloo across the water borne, Or echoing row-locks from revolving oars, Proclaimed belated boatman on the stream. That night till dawn all sleep forsook mine eyes, And on the vision I had seen, my thoughts Revolving rapidly, each other chased. Abou Ben Adhem's dream, in which the name Of him who loved his fellow-men receiv'd The place of honor in th' celestial courts, Haunted my restless fancy, and I thought How many noble hearts and mighty men Have fought unceasingly with human woe, Have braved the pestilence and faced the scourge, And when contagion, with its loathsome grasp. Has filled a city's streets with piled up dead. Rearing one vast, disgusting charnel-house, — Have with unflinching zeal their duty done, Rendering their lives a sacrifice for men. Remaining yet unhonored and unknown. And then a simple, touching incident Unfolding faith, humanity, and love. Self-sacrifice and death before me rose, And 'tis recorded here in that it bears Upon the vision I had lately seen. /'/ / / ■ \ REALITY. The battle's heat was over, The bloody fight was won, And on the dead and dying Shone out the Christmas sun. — A Christmas in the tropics, So warm, and bright, and fair. Had been a day of bloodshed, Of triumph and despair. Afar Majuba's mountain Rose clear athwart the sky While wreathing smoke of cannon On every peak did lie. p the shadow'd valley Along the fertile plain, The sites of fearful carnage Were marked with heaps of slain. While here and there a soldier Wrought painfully for breath, And sturdy men and stubborn Fought hand to hand with death. Oft comrade bent o'er comrade, The living 'mong the dead, To catch a fleeting whisper, Ere soul from body sped ; And bronz'd and scarred veterans, Who faced both shot and shell The morning of the conflict, Were lying as they fell : Some grasping hard the musket, Some clutching at the air ; W^ith features set in agony Or stony in despair. Amid a heap of wounded, The surgeon of his corps, With shattered Hmbs, was lying Unheeded in his gore. All day amid the battle, 'Mid shot and bursting shells, Amid the groans of wounded, Or loud, triumphant yells, Courageous in his duty. Calm in his sense of right. Amid the crash of cannon And thunder of the fight. He gave the wounded comfort. To suffering men his aid. On many a gash of sabre His gentle hand was laid. His presence cast a halo O'er ambulance and tent, And voice and eye spoke blessings Wherever Langdon went; Till, bending at his duty, The foremost in the line, A murderous missile, straying. Went crushing through his spine. And lo ! beside the surgeon A wounded soldier lay, Whose record had been glorious Throughout the live-long day. A ghastly wound, and bleeding, Gaped open on his thigh. Its agony evoking One long, low, wailing cry. As moaning winds in autumn It fell on Langdon's ear, Till, growing strong and stronger, Still clearer and more clear, He roused himself from stupor, And turned his languid eyes, To find from whence proceeded Such agonizing cries. They rested on the soldier, — The features well he knew, — And in a startled whisper Cried, "Donald, is it you?" They had been boys together ; In manhood came a strife, Which deadly feud engendered, Embittering each life. And now beside each other, Both racked with fearsome pain, The soldier and the surgeon Met face to face again. I wronged you, foully wronged you," The soldier faintly said, " But she who sowed the dis- cord Disgraced my home, and fled. iSf. ' " " But, oh ! " ( He writhed in ( ; 'Z^''' ' , , agony.) ' '111 ' " ^ ^^^^^^ nine lie ; • ''But, Langdon, dear, forgive me, — " Shake hands before we die." His arm. he stretched out feebly. The space was far too wide, He swooned, — and for a moment Then ebb'd the crimson tide. The light of life rekindled In Langdon's dying gaze, And o'er his face stole sweetly The light of other days. Then rising on his elbow, With superhuman might He beckoned to a sergeant Then coming into sight. Come, comrade," said he faintly, — " Come, drag me there to him, " And wipe my sweating forehead, " My eyes seem growing dim. " Yon haversack lies open. Look there, beside my flask, A leathern case, — oh, hasten ! " God strengthen for the task. I know that I am dying, " But still my hand is strong, "So, — let me rest against your breast; It will not take me long." The damp of death was falhng On Langdon's palHd face, While with his trembhng fingers He opened wide the case, Then with a smile of triumph He took the polished blade, And with a skill unerring The bleeding point displayed, And, while his life was ebbing. The spouting vessel tied. " Good-bye ! " he said, and sinkin On Donald's shoulder — died. The Christmas stars were burning Bright in the vault above, When Donald's life returning He recognized the love, That thus in death forgave him, As Christ upon the tree. Displayed the last example, Of his humanity.