America.

Where the wings of a sunny Dome expand

I saw a Banner in gladsome air —

Starry, like Berenice's Hair —

Afloat in broadened bravery there;

With undulating long-drawn flow,

As rolled Brazilian billows go

Voluminously o'er the Line.

The Land reposed in peace below;

The children in their glee

Were folded to the exulting heart

Of young Maternity.

Later, and it streamed in fight

When tempest mingled with the fray,

And over the spear-point of the shaft

I saw the ambiguous lightning play.

Valor with Valor strove, and died:

Fierce was Despair, and cruel was Pride;

And the lorn Mother speechless stood,

Pale at the fury of her brood.

Yet later, and the silk did wind

Her fair cold form;

Little availed the shining shroud,

Though ruddy in hue, to cheer or warm.

A watcher looked upon her low, and said —

She sleeps, but sleeps, she is not dead.

But in that sleep contortion showed

The terror of the vision there —

A silent vision unavowed,

Revealing earth's foundation bare,

And Gorgon in her hidden place.

It was a thing of fear to see

So foul a dream upon so fair a face,

And the dreamer lying in that starry shroud.

But from the trance she sudden broke —

The trance, or death into promoted life;

At her feet a shivered yoke,

And in her aspect turned to heaven

No trace of passion or of strife —

A clear calm look. It spake of pain,

But such as purifies from stain —

Sharp pangs that never come again —

And triumph repressed by knowledge meet,

Power dedicate, and hope grown wise,

And youth matured for age's seat —

Law on her brow and empire in her eyes.

So she, with graver air and lifted flag;

While the shadow, chased by light,

Fled along the far-drawn height,

And left her on the crag.