The writings of John Greenleaf Whittier, Volume 4.
John Greenleaf Whittier, Ed.

Oh that man once more were manly,
     Woman's pride, and not her scorn:
That once more the pale young mother
     Dared to boast “a man is born” !

But, now life's slumberous current
     No sun-bowed cascade wakes;
No tall, heroic manhood
     The level dulness breaks.

Oh for a knight like Bayard,
     Without reproach or fear!
My light glove on his casque of steel,
     My love-knot on his spear! “

Then I said, my own heart throbbing
     To the time her proud pulse beat,
“Life hath its regal natures yet,
     True, tender, brave, and sweet!

Smile not, fair unbeliever!
     One man, at least, I know,
Who might wear the crest of Bayard
     Or Sidney's plume of snow.

Once, when over purple mountains
     Died away the Grecian sun,
And the far Cyllenian ranges
     Paled and darkened, one by one,—