BETA

Mrs. Greenhow.

“ During the civil war in America, this lady devoted herself, with all the
energy of an ardent character, to the cause of the South, and met with
death in the autumn of 1866, in the manner described in the following
lines.”
I knew her first in the full tide1
Of hope and burning zeal,2
For what her ardent spirit deemed,3
Her injured country’s weal.4
I marked the curl of her proud lip,5
The flash of her dark eye,6
When for the struggling Southern cause7
She vowed to live and die.8
Fierce was her glance, and fierce her words,9
She loathed the Northern foe,10
With that intensity of hate11
Impassioned women know.12
Her frantic sense of bitter wrongs13
Almost to madness rose,14
When with wild eloquence she told15
The tale of Southern woes.16
Grand, but appalling, was the burst17
Of passion shook her frame,18
When in her breast the rushing tide19
Of vengeful anger came.20
And yet at times that troubled face21
Was full of tender thought,22
And to her eyes a few kind words23
A soft’ning moisture brought.24
The ceaseless strife, the wild unrest,25
Had kept her years away26
From sacred rites she once had loved,27
The Christian’s hope and stay.28
Yet she had faith, and longed to lean29
Her aching heart on God,30
Whose arm had sheltered her along31
The dangerous path she trod.32
But to forgive ! . . . Oh could she say33
She did forgive, whose cry34
So long had been the heathen prayer,35
“ To be revenged and die !”36
Great was the conflict in that soul,37
Between grace and the tide38
Of passion springing from the might39
Of human love and pride.40
It ceased at last, grace won the day ;41
She knelt, and though her fears,42
And eager hopes for her own land,43
Were strong as in past years.44
The frantic curse died on her lips,45
Her own wrongs she forgave,46
The heart that had been fierce became47
Thenceforward only brave.48
Her strength, her life, to the same cause49
Were still as wildly giv’n ;50
But a dark cloud no longer stood51
Betwixt her soul and heaven.52

*****

I saw her last, one summer eve,53
In London, in a room,54
Where brilliant lights, and converse gay55
Banished all thoughts of gloom.56
Her head was decked with roses red,57
Bright jewels on her breast,58
Her dark and most expressive eyes,59
The keenest hopes expressed.60
She poured in English statesmen’s ears61
Her pleadings for the South ;62
It was a joy to her to feel63
They heard them from her mouth.64
She spoke of her long prison days,65
And of the darksome nights,66
When running the blockade she watched67
The rows of lurid light.68
The Northern vessels gleaming o’er69
The ocean’s sullen gloom,70
Counting the while, with throbbing heart,71
The minutes fraught with doom.72
She told how she was soon to sail73
Again on the wild main,74
And spite the Northern fleet’s array,75
The Southern shore regain.76
No other woman in that bark77
It’s captain dared to take,—78
Alone with men prepared to die,79
That passage she would make.80
But though she talked of death, her words81
No sad forebodings raised,82
The thought did not arise, as on83
That beaming face we gazed.84
It sounded like a wild romance,85
A tale of days of yore,86
Rather a thing to wonder at,87
Than sadly to deplore.88

*****

From Greenock when about to sail,89
A kind farewell she wrote,90
To one whose tears soon afterwards91
Fell fast on that brief note.92
For in the autumn of the year,93
One eve the Times I read,94
With careless eyes, and then I saw95
The news that she was dead.96
The tale ran thus : near Wilmington,97
One rough, tempestuous night,98
A Southern vessel in the dark99
Essayed to land its freight.100
The sea and sky were black as doom,101
No moon or shining star ;102
But quick as lightning from the ships103
Flashed signal lights afar.104
At once, in a small open boat,105
Daring the waves and wind,106
One woman and two men descend,107
A watery grave to find.108
And on the morrow on the shore,109
A corpse that woman lay,110
The bright eyes closed, the strong heart stilled111
The long hair drenched with spray.112
The treasure she had died to save,113
Was fastened in her vest,114
Not death itself had torn it from115
The cold and silent breast.116
She had been faithful to the last,—117
To a fond, hopeless dream ;118
She did not live to see it fade,119
Like a delusive gleam.120
In the fall ardour of that faith121
She died, and had her meed :122
The gold which she conveyed had reached123
Her country in its need.124
But in her last, her dying hour,125
If the belief be true,126
That drowning persons all their lives127
At one brief glance review,128
What was the mem’ry, what the thought,129
That gave her hopes of heaven,130
On which her parting soul could rest131
Its claim to be forgiven ?132
Oh, was it not the one in which133
Her softened heart had felt134
The deep, fierce hatred of her foes135
Pass from it as she knelt ?136
Did not the words, “ Now go in peace,”137
Sound in her ears again ?138
Did they not mingle in her dream139
With the voice of the main ?140
Well might we breathe a prayer and say,141
“ Oh, may she rest in peace !”142
Whose life had been a wild unrest,143
Closed by a timely grace.144
Long, long before me rose the thought,145
The vision of that scene ;146
Of the last struggle of the end,147
Of all that life had been.148
Of all the sorrow, had she lived,149
She had been doomed to share ;150
Of all her ardent soul was spared,151
Of anguish and despair.152
G. F.