Man. Try if you can see. Look out of the window; the sun is shining brightly, the sky is clear.
George. I see crowds of forms circling between the pupils of my eyes and my eyelids—faces I have often seen before, the leaves of books I have read before....
The Man. Then you really do still see?
George. Yes, with the eyes of my spirit—but the eyes of my body have gone out forever.
The Man (falls on his knees as if to pray; pauses, and exclaims bitterly:) Before whom shall I kneel—to whom pray—to whom complain of the unjust doom crushing my innocent child?
He rises from his knees.
It is best to bear all in silence—God laughs at our prayers—Satan mocks at our curses—
A Voice. But thy son is a Poet—and what wouldst thou more?
The Physician and Godfather.
Godfather. It is certainly a great misfortune to be blind.
Physician. And at his age a very unusual one.
Godfather. His frame was always very fragile, and his mother died somewhat—so—so …
Physician. How did she die?
Godfather. A little so … you understand … not quite in her right mind.
The Man (entering). I pray you, pardon my intrusion at so late an hour, but for the last night or two my son has wakened up at twelve o'clock, left his bed, and talked in his sleep.
Will you have the kindness to follow me, and watch him to-night?
Physician. I will go to him immediately; I am very much interested in the observation of such phenomena.
Relations, Godfather, Physician, the Man, a Nurse—assembled in the sleeping apartment of George Stanislaus.
First Relation. Hush! hush! be quiet!
Second Relation. He is awake, but neither sees nor hears us.
Physician. I beg that you will all remain perfectly silent.
Godfather. This seems to be a most extraordinary malady.
George (rising from his seat). God! O God!
First Relation. How lightly he treads!
Second Relation. Look! he clasps his thin hands across his breast.
Third Relation. His eyelids are motionless; he does not move his lips, but what a sharp and thrilling shriek!
Nurse. Christ, shield him!
George. Depart from me, Darkness! I am a child of light and song, and what hast thou to do with me? What dost thou desire from me?
I do not yield myself to thee, although my sight has flown away upon the wings of the wind, and is flitting restlessly about through infinite space: it will return to me—my eyes will open with a flash of flame—and I will see the universe!
Godfather. He talks exactly as his mother did; he does not know what he is saying, I think his condition very critical.
Physician. He is in great danger.
Nurse. Holy Mother of God! take my eyes, and give them to the poor boy!
George. My mother, I entreat thee! O mother, send me thoughts and images, that I may create within myself a world like the one I have lost forever!
First Relation. Do you think, brother, it will be necessary to call a family consultation?
Second Relation. Be silent!
George. Thou answerest me not, my mother!
O mother, do not desert me!
Physician (to the Man). It is my duty to tell you the truth.
Godfather. Yes, to tell the truth is the duty and virtue of a physician!
Physician. Your son is suffering from incipient insanity, connected with an extraordinary excitability of the nervous system, which sometimes occasions, if I may so express myself, the strange phenomenon of sleeping and waking at the same time, as in the case now before us.
The Man (aside). He reads to me thy sentence, O my God!
Physician. Give me pen, ink, and paper.
He writes a prescription.
The Man. I think it best you should all now retire; George needs rest.
Several Voices. Good night! good night! good night!
George (waking suddenly). Are they wishing me good night, father?
They should rather speak of a long, unbroken, eternal night, but of no good one, of no happy dawn for me....
The Man. Lean on me, George. Let me support you to the bed.
George. What does all this mean, father?
The Man. Cover yourself up, and go quietly to sleep. The doctor says you will regain your sight.
George. I feel so very unwell, father; strange voices roused me from my sleep, and I saw mamma standing in a field of lilies....
He falls asleep.
The Man. Bless thee! bless thee, my poor boy!
I can give thee nothing but a blessing; neither happiness, nor light, nor fame are in my gift. The stormy hour of struggle approaches, when I must combat with the few against the many.
Tortured infant! what is then to become of thee, alone, helpless, blind, surrounded by a thousand dangers? Child, yet Poet, poor Singer without a hearer, with thy soul in heaven, and thy frail, suffering body still fettered to the earth—what is to be thy doom? Alas, miserable infant! thou most unfortunate of all the angels! my son! my son!
He buries his face in his hands.
Nurse (knocking at the door). The doctor desires to see his excellency as soon as convenient.
The Man. My good Katharine, watch faithfully and tenderly over my poor son!
Exit.
THE NORTH CAROLINA CONSCRIPT
He lay on the field of Antietam,
As the sun sank low in the west,
And the life from his heart was ebbing
Through a ghastly wound in his breast.
All around were the dead and the dying—
A pitiful sight to see—
And afar, in the vapory distance,
Were the flying hosts of Lee.
He raised himself on his elbow,
And
