HAIL to posterity!
Hail, future men of Germanopolis!
Let the young generations yet to be Look kindly upon this.
Think how your fathers left their native land,-- Dear German-land! O sacred hearths and homes!--
And, where the wild beast roams, In patience planned New forest-homes beyond the mighty sea, There undisturbed and free To live as brothers of one family.
What pains and cares befell, What trials and what fears, Remember, and wherein we have done well Follow our footsteps, men of coming years!
Where we have failed to do Aright, or wisely live, Be warned by us, the better way pursue, And, knowing we were human, even as you, Pity us and forgive!
Farewell, Posterity!
Farewell, dear Germany Forevermore farewell!
(From the Latin of Francis DANIEL PASTORIUS in the Germantown Records. 1688.)
PRELUDE.
I SING the Pilgrim of a softer clime And milder speech than those brave men's who brought To the ice and iron of our winter time A will as firm, a creed as stern, and wrought With one mailed hand, and with the other fought.
Simply, as fits my theme, in homely rhyme I sing the blue-eyed German Spener taught, Through whose veiled, mystic faith the Inward Light, Steady and still, an easy brightness, shone, Transfiguring all things in its radiance white.
The garland which his meekness never sought I bring him; over fields of harvest sown With seeds of blessing, now to ripeness grown, I bid the sower pass before the reapers' sight.
Never in tenderer quiet lapsed the day From Pennsylvania's vales of spring away, Where, forest-walled, the scattered hamlets lay
Along the wedded rivers. One long bar Of purple cloud, on which the evening star Shone like a jewel on a scimitar,
Held the sky's golden gateway. Through the deep Hush of the woods a murmur seemed to creep, The Schuylkill whispering in a voice of sleep.
All else was still. The oxen from their ploughs Rested at last, and from their long day's browse Came the dun files of Krisheim's home-bound cows.
And the young city, round whose virgin zone The rivers like two mighty arms were thrown, Marked by the smoke of evening fires alone,
Lay in the distance, lovely even then With its fair women and its stately men Gracing the forest court of William Penn,
Urban yet sylvan; in its rough-hewn frames Of oak and pine the dryads held their claims, And lent its streets their pleasant woodland names.
Anna Pastorius down the leafy lane Looked city-ward, then stooped to prune again Her vines and simples, with a sigh of pain.
For fast the streaks of ruddy sunset paled In the oak clearing, and, as daylight failed, Slow, overhead, the dusky night-birds sailed.
Again she looked: between green walls of shade, With low-bent head as if with sorrow weighed, Daniel Pastorius slowly came and said,
"God's peace be with thee, Anna!" Then he stood Silent before her, wrestling with the mood Of one who sees the evil and not good.
"What is it, my Pastorius?" As she spoke, A slow, faint smile across his features broke, Sadder than tears. "Dear heart," he said, "our folk
"Are even as others. Yea, our goodliest Friends Are frail; our elders have their selfish ends, And few dare trust the Lord to make amends
"For duty's loss. So even our feeble word For the dumb slaves the startled meeting heard As if a stone its quiet waters stirred;
"And, as the clerk ceased reading, there began A ripple of dissent which downward ran In widening circles, as from man to man.
"Somewhat was said of running before sent, Of tender fear that some their guide outwent, Troublers of Israel. I was scarce intent
"On hearing, for behind the reverend row Of gallery Friends, in dumb and piteous show, I saw, methought, dark faces full of woe.
"And, in the spirit, I was taken where They toiled and suffered; I was made aware Of shame and wrath and anguish and despair!
"And while the meeting smothered our poor plea With cautious phrase, a Voice there seemed to be, As ye have done to these ye do to me!'
"So it all passed; and the old tithe went on Of anise, mint, and cumin, till the sun Set, leaving still the weightier work undone.
"Help, for the good man faileth! Who is strong, If these be weak? Who shall rebuke the wrong, If these consent? How long, O Lord! how long!"
He ceased; and, bound in spirit with the bound, With folded arms, and eyes that sought the ground, Walked musingly his little garden round.
About him, beaded with the falling dew, Rare plants of power and herbs of healing grew, Such as Van Helmont and Agrippa knew.
For, by the lore of Gorlitz' gentle sage, With the mild mystics of his dreamy age He read the herbal signs of nature's page,
As once he heard in sweet Von Merlau's' bowers Fair as herself, in boyhood's happy hours, The pious Spener read his creed in flowers.
"The dear Lord give us patience!" said his wife, Touching with finger-tip an aloe, rife With leaves sharp-pointed like an Aztec knife
Or Carib spear, a gift to William Penn From the rare gardens of John Evelyn, Brought from the Spanish Main by merchantmen.
"See this strange plant its steady purpose hold, And, year by year, its patient leaves unfold, Till the young eyes that watched it first are old.
"But some time, thou hast told me, there shall come A sudden beauty, brightness, and perfume, The century-moulded bud shall burst in bloom.
"So may the seed which hath been sown to-day Grow with the years, and, after long delay, Break into bloom, and God's eternal Yea!
"Answer at last the patient prayers of them Who now, by faith alone, behold its stem Crowned with the flowers of Freedom's diadem.
"Meanwhile, to feel and suffer, work and wait, Remains for us. The wrong indeed is great, But love and patience conquer soon or late."
"Well hast thou said, my Anna!" Tenderer Than youth's caress upon the head of her Pastorius laid his hand. "Shall we demur
"Because the vision tarrieth? In an hour We dream not of, the slow-grown bud may flower, And what was sown in weakness rise in power!"
Then through the vine-draped door whose legend read, "Procul este profani!" Anna led To where their child upon his little bed
Looked up and smiled. "Dear heart," she said, "if we Must bearers of a heavy burden be, Our boy, God willing, yet the day shall see
"When from the gallery to the farthest seat, Slave and slave-owner shall no longer meet, But all sit equal at the Master's feet."
On the stone hearth the blazing walnut block Set the low walls a-glimmer, showed the cock Rebuking Peter on the Van Wyck clock,