Auburn, New York.

1. S. A.

March 31. 1898

My dear Sir

            Please excuse my taking the liberty of enclosing a poem of mine dedicated to yourself on the Dreyfus matter which appeared recently in the Home Journal of New York City _ and also a discussion of your novel “Paris”. It is needless to say that your heroic attitude is admired generally by Americans _ you have seen that long since.

            Please excuse my addressing you in English as I do not feel quite at ease in French, but if you choose to aknowledge this I can easily read it.

            I also reviewed “Lourdes” for the home Journal some time ago.

            I wish you a great triumph in your faithful fight.

            Yours very truly

            William B. Chisholm

Poème joint :

            Eternal Justice

The man is thought a knave or fool,

Or bigot ploting crime

Who for the advancement of his race,

Is wiser than his time.

For him the axe be bared ;

For him the gibbet shall be built ;

For him the sake prepared ;

Him shall the scorn & wrath of [mot illisible]

Pursue with deadly aim ;

And malice, envy, spite & lies,

Shall desecrate his name.

But truth shall conquer at the last

For round & round we run

And ever the right comes uppermost

And ever is justice done.

__

Pace through thy cell, old Socrates,

cheerily to and fro ;

First to the impulse of thy soul

And let the poison flow.

They may shatter to earth the limp of clay,

That holds a light divine,

But they cannot quench the fire of thought

By any such deadly wine ;

They cannot blot thy spoken words

From the memory of man

By all the poison ever was brewed

Since time its course began

To-day abhorred, to-morrow adored,

So round and round we run !

And ever the truth comes uppermost

And ever is justice done.

___

Plod in thy grave, gray Anchorite ;

Be wiser than thy peers ;

Augment the range od human power

And trust to coming years.

They may call the wizard and monk accurrio

And load thee with dispraise ;

Those [mot illisible] born five hundred years too soon

Fotr the comfort of thy days.

But not too soon for human kind :

Time has reward in store ;

And the demons of our sires become

The saints that we adore.

The blind can see, the slave is lord ;

So round and round we run,

And ever the wrong is proved to be corony.

And ever justice is done.

___

Keep Galileo, to thy thought,

And nerve thy soul to bear ;

They may gloat over the senseless words they earing

From the pangs of thy dispair :

They may veil their eyes, but they cannot hide

The sun's meridian glow ;

The heel of a priest may thread thee down

And a tyrant work thee woe ;

but never a truth has been destroyed :

They may curse it ans call it a crime ;

Pervert and betray, or slander and slay

Its teachers for a time.

But the sunshine aye shall light the sky,

As round and round we run ;

And the truth shall ever come uppermost,

And justice shall be done.

____

And line there now such men as these

With thoughts like the great of old.

Hang have died in their misery

And left their thought untold.

And may line, and are ranked as mad

And placed in the cold world ! Ban

For sending their bright for-seeing souls

Three centuries in the van ;

They toil in [mot illisible] and grief,

Unknown, if not maligned ;

Forlorn, forlorn, bearing the scorn

of the meanest of mankind ;

But yet the world goes round and round

And the genial seasons run

And ever the truth comes uppermost

And ever justice is done.

_____