On the Death of Margaret Fuller
By G.P.R. James
High hopes and bright thine early path bedecked,
And aspirations beautiful though wild,—
A heart too strong, a powerful will unchecked,
A dream that earth-things could be undefiled.
But soon, around thee, grew a golden chain,
That bound the woman to more human things,
And taught with joy—and, it may be, with pain—
That there are limits e’en to Spirit’s wings.
Husband and child,—the loving and beloved,—
Won, from the vast of thought, a mortal part,
The impassioned wife and mother, yielding, proved
Mind has itself a master—in the heart.
In distant lands enhaloed by, old fame
Thou found’st the only chain thy spirit knew,
But captive ledst thy captors, from the shame
Of ancient freedom, to the pride of new.
And loved hearts clung around thee on the deck,
Welling with sunny hopes ’neath sunny skies:
The wide horizon round thee had no speck,—
E’en Doubt herself could see no cloud arise.
Thy loved ones clung around thee, when the sail
O’er wide Atlantic billows onward bore
Thy freight of joys, and the expanding gale
Pressed the glad bark toward thy native shore.
The loved ones clung around thee still, when all
Was darkness, tempest, terror, and dismay,—
More closely clung around thee, when the pall
Of Fate was falling o’er the mortal clay.
With them to live,—with them, with them to die,
Sublime of human love intense and fine!—
Was thy last prayer unto the Deity;
And it was granted thee by Love Divine.
In the same billow,—in the same dark grave,—
Mother, and child, and husband, find their rest.
The dream is ended; and the solemn wave
Gives back the gifted to her country’s breast.