Poems (Waldenburg)/To Bayard Taylor

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TO BAYARD TAYLOR, Minister to Germany.
We send thee forth a Bayard from the west,"Sans peur et sans reproche" as he of old,Tho' true thou bearest armor not, nor crestNor flaming banner valiantly enrolled.Yet bravely goest thou, though not in fightThou shalt win honors in a peaceful field,Thou bearest a weapon keen as diamond brightWhose magic power thou knowest well to wield.
'Neath orient skies; and where the midnight sunIn awful splendor wears his fiery crown,Through desert sands great victories hast thou won,And from long waiting forms struck silence down,Giving them other speech in newer lands.Lo Faust appears; pale Gretchen's form we see,Across the sea she waves her trembling handsAnd tells the story of her misery.
These hast thou won and given thy land of birthToiling with fervent heart, and earnest pen,And in thy wanderings o'er the lands of earth,Hast brought her nearer to her fellow men, ​Go forth again in thy proud country's name.Go to the land of Schiller's song divine;Where Goethe lives immortal in his fame;To that imperial land where flows the Rhine.Thou shalt have welcome warm from folk and throne,And while thou bidest by the Northern sea,Know that she holds thee as her very own,And that thy country's stars watch over thee;Till thou returnest to her arms againShe breathes no farewell save, auf wieder sehen!

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