Ode to Dr. Samuel Hahnemann

ODE TO HAHNEMANN

By Dr. Helmuth

I
Oft times in far off regions of the north,
When Autumn’s glories all the woods disclose,
The sinking sun its golden rays pours forth,
Till all the scene in quivering splendor glows.
Then show-capped peaks grow rosy in the light,
And sapphire clouds are touched with points of fire,
Which, sinking slowly in the arms of night,
Watch, ling’ring still to see the day expire.

II
And so the century in grandeur dies,
Reflecting splendor on her closing years,
Where genius-born her myriad conquests rise
‘Midst hopes triumphant and ‘mid seas of tears.
Arise, O Man, and let thy heart rejoice,
That thou wert born in these prolific times,
When science teaches with prophetic voice
And art in majesty her place defines.

III
Amid the ashes of defeated hopes,
Amid the wreckage of a thousand lives,
That strew the pathways on Ambition’s slopes,
The mighty genius of man survives;
And Fame, fair goddess in her proud array,
With golden trumpet pointing to the sky,
Sounds thro’ the arch of Time her grandest lay,
The works of men whose names can never die.

IV
By Darwin’s thought the problem of our lives,
So long unsolved, this century proclaims
In one great song “The fittest still survives.”
“Natural selection forever reigns.”
And hark! along Time’s avenue there peals
Resounding anthem through the trump of fame,
As Herbert Spencer to the world reveals
The science that hath glorified his name.
Now Evolution stretcheth forth her arm
To hold “the fittest” that the Earth contains;
The cold agnostic shudders in alarm;
God still is God – omnipotence remains.

V
Five decades back our ‘scutcheon, with its stars
And stripes in glory waving to the sky,
Was tarnished by the legal right that bars
Equality to men, and slavery
With all its horror, all its crime and lust,
Cast its black shadow o’er this mighty land.
Lo! then arose a fearless man and just,
And to the Nation issued his command.

VI
And lo! the fiends of internecine war
Rose like the hideous phantoms of a dream.
But slavery was stricken to the core
And Abra’m Lincoln’s will became supreme.
Oh! martyr’d President, thy native land
‘As this great century is dying now,
Uplifts in majesty its grateful hand,
And lays the wreath immortal on thy brow.

VII
The lurid lightning, flashing through the sky,
Is caught and held subservient to man’s hand,
Who ladens it with thought and bids it fly
Throughout the farthest confines of the land,
O’er mountain heights, across the ocean’s waste,
Past arid plains or through the trackless snow;
Revolving continents each other know.

VIII
The undulations of the summer breeze
An interchange of thought convey,
The force of tides that swell the boundless seas,
Man’s subtle intellect controls to-day.
The planets whirling in the abyss of space,
The rocks that tell us when this earth grew cold,
The glaciers age, antiquity of race,
The science of this century unfold.

IX
And Woman, last of God’s creative art,
(Thou great enigma to the creature man),
Where in the rush of progress is thy part,
Since first this century her course began.
Health, beauty and obedience were then
The chiefest characters thy sex displayed,
Adored by passion — trifled with by men,
Honored and loved, neglected or betrayed.

X
Look how she stands, now better understood,
The light of progress shining in her eyes
In all the glory of true womanhood
As high and holy aspirations rise
The arts and sciences stand open now,
The great professions beckon her to come
To join their ranks,-and still the marriage vow
Surrounds with sacredness the ties of home.

XI
But we who ‘neath the Æsculapian shield
Are linked together in one sacred bond,
To battle on humanity’s broad field
For health and life and all that lies beyond,
Who, when the pestilence is stalking forth,
Slaying its victims with mephitic breath,
Like whirlwinds sweeping from the icy north
Draw forth the sword to battle with King Death

XII
What has the closing century revealed,
To aid our efforts in th’ unequaled strife,
The constant battle with a cause concealed
That saps the very fountain heads of life.
What has it done? Let Anæsthesia sing,
Let Antisepsis clap her cleansed hands,
And microscopic revelations ring
With songs of progress from far distant lands.

XIII
God sent no suff’ring to the pristine man
Till Adam ate of the forbidden tree,
Then with a laugh the demon Pain began
To tear the tendrils of humanity.
The centuries rolled on, and still the race
Was born and tortured by unceasing pain,
Mankind forever striving to efface
Its ravages with antidotes in vain.

XIV
Then cane a time – O country mine, be proud,
For thou wert first the conqueror to find
Before whose breath the Evil Spirit bowed
Amid the thankful plaudits of mankind
The Surgeon now God’s inmost temple sees,
While Anæsthesia her censer swings,
The Demon conquered from his victim flees
And Science jubilant her pæan sings.

XV
To us, Sectarians as we ever are
(As all must be who hold a special creed),
Arose within this century a star,
To guide us in our therapeutic need.
The storm of opposition touched it not,
The shafts of ridicule pass’d harmless by,
Traditions- dogmas could obscure no jot
Of its transcendent truth and purity.

XVI
While Anæsthesia in glory stands,
And Antisepsis o’er the world displays
The grand results minute technique demands,
To bless the Surgery of later days,
Above them both with more expansive reach,
The Star of Truth, by Meissen’s sage defined,
Shines o’er the earth, humanity to teach
The splendid triumphs of the master’s mind.

XVII
No mighty truth since Time his course began
Has shown its full effulgence to the world
Till it has fought the stubborn will of man
By passion’s vehemence against it hurled.
Kepler and Newton, Harvey, Jenner, knew
And felt the obloquies of error born,
And Christ himself, the perfect man and true,
Was crucified amid the cries of scorn.

XVIII
Great is the hero, whose stupendous mind
Upon this dying age its splendor throws
Self-vanquished in his efforts for mankind,
By all the ardor perfect love bestows.
If statesmen, poets, scientists, and men
Who deal in life’s affairs, could later see
Their works as written by historic pen
They ‘d stand confounded by Time’s alchemy.

XIX
Could Samuel Hahnemann arise to-day
To gaze bewildered on this earnest throng,
To view this ceremonial display,
Perhaps to listen to this humble song,
Could he this monumental bronze behold,
Reared to himself, and graven with his name;
Could he by some mysterious voice be told
His name was writ upon the scroll of fame,
With streaming eyes-lost in profound amaze,
But modest still-the porcelain painter’s son
Would prostrate fall in gratitude and praise
For this fruition of love’s labor won.

XX
Look down, O spirit, from thine unknown sphere,
Behold the days of persecution past;
See this assemblage of thy followers here
Proclaim the triumph of the truth at last.
Behold the once torn waters of the sea
Of Therapeutics breaking on the rocks
Of doubt and error and uncertainty,
Tearing the life-boat with incessant shocks
Now, guided by Precision’s better chart,
On it the Mariner shall safely steer,
And, taught by thee, with thankfulness of heart
Shall watch the beacon and dispel his fear.

XXI
Among the benefactors of thy race,
Who stamp their impress on the fleeting years
That grow to centuries, shall be thy place
Of honor, ceded by thy willing peers.
Among the epoch-making men whose thought
Illuminates the world, there shalt thou stand,
Thy battle for humanity well fought,
Bearing thy mottoed banner in thy hand;
Then shall the sons of Æsculapius bring
Their votive offerings of thanks to thee,
And all the nations of the earth shall sing
The grand Te Deum-Homœopathy!