XI. TO EGERIA. Leagues of blue ocean are between us spread; He cannot know what rocks and quicksands may XII-CUBA. What sounds arouse me from my slumbers light? "Land ho! all hands ahoy!"—I'm on the deck. 'Tis early dawn. The day-star yet is bright. A few white vapoury bars the zenith fleck. And lo! along the horizon, bold and high, The purple hills of Cuba! hail, all hail! Isle of undying verdure, with thy sky Of purest azure! Welcome, odorous gale! O! scene of life and joy! thou art array'd In hues of unimagined loveliness— Sing louder, brave old mariner! and aid My swelling heart its rapture to express; For from enchanted memory never more [shore! Shall fade this dawn sublime, this bright, celestial THE DAYS THAT ARE PAST. WE will not deplore them, the days that are past; We have lived till we find them illusive as dreams; Wealth has melted like snow that is grasp'd in the hand, And the steps we have climb'd have departed like sand; Yet shall we despond while of health unbereft, In our spirits the impulse of gladness and praise ? But, by faith unforsaken, unawed by mischance, On hope's waving banner still fix'd be our glance; And, should fortune prove cruel and false to the last, Let us look to the future and not to the past! THE MARTYR OF THE ARENA. HONOUR'D be the hero evermore, Who at mercy's call has nobly died! Bright the sky above, and soft the air! His eulogium to the future years! Shall deserve a greater fame than he! Which the Coliseum once beheld? Fill'd with gazing thousands were the tiers, With the city's chivalry and pride, When two gladiators, with their spears, Forward sprang from the arena's side. Rang the dome with plaudits loud and long, As, with shields advanced, the athletes stoodWas there no one in that eager throng To denounce the spectacle of blood? Aye, TELEMACHUS, with swelling frame, Saw the inhuman sport renew'd once more: Few among the crowd could tell his nameFor a cross was all the badge he wore! Yet, with brow elate and godlike mien, Stepp'd he forth upon the circling sand; In unhallow'd combat be profaned! Now to swear, they shall forever close!" Mid the tumult, found the means to fly; And, with looks adoring, gazed on high. Strains celestial, that the menace drown? Sees he angels, with their eyes of love, Beckoning to him, with a martyr's crown? Fiercer swell'd the people's frantic shout! Launch'd against him flew the stones like rain! Death and terror circled him about But he stood and perish'd-not in vain! Not in vain the youthful martyr fell! Then and there he crush'd a bloody creed! And his high example shall impel Future heroes to as great a deed! Stony answers yet remain for those Who would question and precede the time! In their season, may they meet their foes, Like TELEMACHUS, with front sublime! SUMMER IN THE HEART. THE cold blast at the casement beats, The snow whirls through the empty streets- Sit down, old friend! the wine-cups wait; Though Winter howleth at the gate, In our hearts 'tis summer still! For we full many summer joys And greenwood sports have shared, When, free and ever-roving boys, The rocks, the streams we dared! And, as I look upon thy face Back, back o'er years of ill, My heart flies to that happy place, Where it is summer still! Yes, though, like sere leaves on the ground, Our early hopes are strown, And cherish'd flowers lie dead around, The verdure is not faded quite, Not mute all tones that thrill; For, seeing, hearing thee to-night, In my heart 'tis summer still! Fill up the olden times come back! With light and life once more We scan the future's sunny track, From youth's enchanted shore ! Gone is the winter's angry gloom- THE FUGITIVE FROM LOVE. Is there but a single theme Quick, the rosy nectar bring; THE NIGHT-STORM AT SEA. 'Tis a dreary thing to be Tossing on the wide, wide sea, When the sun has set in clouds, And the wind sighs through the shrouds, Like a living creature's moan! From the ocean to the skies! As it strikes us with a shock Ah! what sudden light is this, Yet flash with startling radiance on the sight; Wake they thy glance of scorn, Thou of the folded arms and aspect stern? Thou of the soft, deep tone,* For whose rich music gone, Kindred and tribe full soon may vainly yearn! Wo for the trusting hour! O, kingly stag, no hand hath brought thee down: "T was with a patriot's heart, Where fear usurped no part, Thou camest, a noble offering-and alone! For vain yon army's might, While for thy band the wide plain own'd a tree, And the wild vine's tangled shoots On the gnarl'd oak's mossy roots Wo for thy hapless fate! Wo for thine evil times and lot, brave chief! Thy sadly-closing story, Thy quickly-vanish'd glory, Thy high but hopeless struggle, brave and brief. *OSEOLA was remarkable for a soft and flute-like voice. Wo for the bitter stain That from our country's banner may not part! Wo for the captive-wo! For bitter pains and slow Are his who dieth of the fever'd heart! O, in that spirit-land, Where never yet the oppressor's foot hath pass'd; Chief! by those sparkling streams, Whose beauty mocks our dreams, May that high heart have won its rest at last! THE DAUGHTER OF HERODIAS. MOTHER! I bring thy gift; Take from my hand the dreaded boon-I pray, Take it; the still, pale sorrow of the face Hath left upon my soul its living trace, Never to pass away, Since from these lips one word of idle breath Blanch'd that calm face. O, mother! this is death! What is it that I see From all the pure and settled features gleaming? Reproach! reproach! My dreams are strange and wild. Mother! hadst thou not pity on thy child? Lo! a celestial smile seems softly beaming On the hush'd lips;-my mother! canst thou brook Longer upon thy victim's face to look ? Alas! at yester morn My heart was light, and to the viol's sound I gayly danced, while crown'd with summer flowers, And swiftly by me sped the flying hours; And all was joy around Not death! O, mother! could I say thee nay? Take from thy daughter's hand thy boon away! Take it! my heart is sad ; And the pure forehead hath an icy chill. I dare not touch it, for avenging Heaven And the pale face appals me, cold and still, With the closed lips. O, tell me! could I know That the pale features of the dead were so? I may not turn away From the charm'd brow; and I have heard his Even as a prophet by his people spoken; [name And that high brow in death bears seal and token Of one whose words were flame. O, Holy Teacher! couldst thou rise and live, Would not those hush'd lips whisper, "I forgive?" Away with lute and harp With the glad heart forever, and the dance! The silent dead with his rebuking glance, "TIME, FAITH, ENERGY."* HIGH words and hopeful!-fold them to thy breast, Wait thou for Time! Wait thou for Time-the slow-unfolding flower Yea, wait for Time, but to thy heart take Faith, Pointing to sheltering havens yet to be. Yea, Faith and Time, and thou that through the hour Of the lone night hast nerved the feeble hand, With the old tales our wayward thoughts inspire, Till on the fadeless borders of that land Suggested by a passage in BULWER'S "Night and Morning." Where all is known we find our certain way, Say, in the gardens of eternal bloom Will not our hearts, where breaks the cloudless morning, Joy that ye led us through the drooping night? GIVE ME ARMOUR OF PROOF. GIVE me armour of proof, I must ride to the plain; Till the conflict is over, the battle is past- Give me armour of proof-bring me helmet and spear; Away! shall the warrior's cheek own a tear? Bring the steel of Milan-'t is the firmest and best, And bind o'er my bosom its closely link'd vest, Where the head of a loved one in fondness hath lain, Whose tears fell at parting like warm summer rain! Give me armour of proof-I have torn from my heart Each soft tie and true that forbade me to part; Bring the sword of Damascus, its blade cold and bright, That bends not in conflict, but gleams in the fight; And stay--let me fasten your scarf on my breast, Love's light pledge and true--I will answer the rest! Give me armour of proof--shall the cry be in vain, When to life's sternest conflicts we rush forth amain? The knight clad in armour the battle may bide; But wo to the heedless when bendeth the tried; And wo to youth's morn, when we rode forth alone, To the conflict unguarded, its gladness hath flown! Give us armour of proof--our hopes were all high; But they pass'd like the meteor lights from the sky; Our hearts' trust was firm, but life's waves swept away One by one the frail ties which were shelter and stay; And true was our love, but its bonds broke in twain: Give me armour of proof, ere we ride forth again. Give me armour of proof--we should turn from LINES SUGGESTED BY A SCENE IN "MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK."* BEAUTIFUL child! my lot is cast; May leave a trace on its stainless snow; Lo spirits of evil haunt the bowers, And the serpent glides from the trembling flowers. A fount in the desert gush forth for thee, Beautiful child! let the weary in heart The angels above be thy help and stay, "Nelly bore upon her arm the little basket with her flowers, and sometimes stopped, with timid and modest looks, to offer them at some gay carriage. . There was but one lady who seemed to understand the child, LIFE AND DEATH. "La mort est le seul dieu que J'osais implorer." Nor unto thee, O pale and radiant Death! Not unto thee, though every hope be past, Though Life's first, sweetest stars may shine no more, Nor earth again one cherish'd dream restore, Yet unto thee, O monarch! robed and crown'd, I bring no incense, though the heart be chill, Shines not as once the wonted light of day, I pay my vows, though now to me thy brow Still I implore thee not. But thou, O Life! O Life! the searching test But let me pay my vows to thee, O Life! Released from earthly hope, or earthly fear. This, this, O Life! be mine. Let others strive thy glowing wreaths to bindLet others seek thy false and dazzling gleams, For me their light went out on early streams, And faded were thy roses in my grasp, No more, no more to bloom. Yet as the stars, the holy stars of night, Shine out when all is dark, So would I, cheer'd by hopes more purely bright, Tread still the thorny path whose close is light, If, but at last, the toss'd and weary barque Gains the sure haven of her final rest. and she was one who sat alone in a handsome carriage, while two young men in dashing clothes, who had just dismounted from it, talked and laughed loudly at a little distance, appearing to forget her quite. There were many ladies all around, but they turned their backs, or looked another way, or at the two young men, (not unfavourably at them,) and left her to herself. She motioned away a gipsy-woman, urgent to tell her fortune, saying, that it was told already, and had been for some years, but called the child towards her, and taking her flowers, put money into her trembling hand, and bade her go home, and keep at home, for God's sake. |