Page:The Poets and Poetry of the West.djvu/257

 1830-40.] CHARLES D. DRAKE. 241 WHAT IS LIFE? An Eagle flew up in his heavenward flight, Far out of the reach of human sight, And gazed on the earth from the lordly height Of his sweeping and lone career : ''And this is life !" he exultingly screams, " To soar without feai* where the lightning gleams, And look unblenched on the sun's dazzling beams, As they blaze through the upper sphere." A Lion sprang forth from his bloody bed, And roared till it seemed he would wake the dead. And man and beast from him, wildly fled, As though there were death in the tone: " And this is life !<^ he triumphantly cried, " To hold my domain in the forest wide. Imprisoned by naught but the ocean's tide. And the ice of the frozen zone." " It is life," said a Whale, " to swim the deep ; O'er hills submerged and abysses to sweep. Where the gods of ocean their vigils keep. In the fathomless gulfs below ; To bask on the bosom of tropical seas, And inhale the fragrance of Ceylon's breeze. Or sport where the turbulent waters freeze. In the climes of eternal snow." " It is life," says a tireless Albatross, " To skim thi-ough the air when the dark waves toss In the storm that has swept the earth across. And never to wish for rest ; To sleep on the breeze as it softly flies, My perch in the air, my shelter the skies, And build my nest on the billows that rise And break with a pearly crest." " It is life," says a wild Gazelle, " to leap From crag to crag of the mountainous steep, Wliere the cloud's icy tears in purity sleep. Like the marble brow of death ; To stand, unmoved, on the outermost verge Of the perilous height, and watch the surge Of the waters beneath, that onward urge, As if sent by a demon's breath." " It is life," I hear a Butterfly say, " To revel in blooming gardens by day. And nestle in cups of flowerets gay. When the stars the heavens illume ; To steal from the rose its delicate hue. And sip from the hyacinth glittering dew, And catch from beds of the violet blue The breath of its gentle perfume." " It is life," a majestic War-horse neighed, " To prance in the glare of battle and blade. Where thousands in terrible death are laid, And scent of the streaming gore ; To dash, unappalled, through the fiery heat, And trample the dead beneath my feet. Mid the trumpet's clang, and the drum's loud beat, And the hoarse artillery's roar." " It is life," said a Savage, with hideous yell, "To roam unshackled the mountain and dell, And feel my bosom with majesty swell. As the primal monarch of all ; To gaze on the earth, the sky and the sea. And feel that, like them, I am chainless and free. And never, while breathing, to bend the knee, But at the Manitou's call." An aged Christian went tottering by, And white was his hair, and dim was his eye, 16