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Whose quiet beauty o'er my soul through distant
years will come-Yet what but as the dead, to thee, shall I be then,
“ Not as the dead !-no, not the dead !—We speak
of them we keep Their names, like light that must not fade, within
our bosoms deep! We hallow ev’n the lyre they touch'd, we love the
lay they sung, We pass with softer step the place they fill'd our band
among! But I depart like sound, like dew, like aught that
leaves on earth No trace of sorrow or delight, no memory of its
birth! I go!—the echo of the rock a thousand songs may
swell When mine is a forgotten voice.--Woods, mountains,
home, farewell !
* And farewell, mother !—I have borne in lonely si
lence long, But now the current of my soul grows passionate and
strong! And I will speak! though but the wind that wanders
through the sky, And but the dark deep-rustling pines and rolling streams reply.
Yes! I will speak!-within my breast whate'er hath
seem'd to be, There lay a hidden fount of love, that would have
gush'd for thee! Brightly it would have gush'd, but thou, my mother!
thou hast thrown Back on the forests and the wilds what should have
been thine own!
“ Then fare thee well! I leave thee not in loneliness
to pine, Since thou hast sons of statelier mien and fairer brow
than mine! Forgive me that thou couldst not love !-it may be,
that a tone Yet from my burning heart may pierce, through
thine, when I am gone! And thou perchance mayst weep for him on whom
thou ne'er hast smiled, And the grave give his birthright back to thy ne
glected child ! Might but my spirit then return, and 'midst its kin
dred dwell, And quench its thirst with love's free tears !- tis all
a dream-farewell !”
“ Farewell !"—the echo died with that deep word,
And cheek, and eye; but into one bright flood
Return, return, my son!”—the echo caught A lovelier sound than song, and woke again, Murmuring—“Return, my son!”.
THE SULIOTE MOTHER.
It is related in a French Life of Ali Pacha, that several of the Suliote women, on the advance of the Turkish troops into their mountain fastnesses, assembled on a lofty summit, and, after chanting a wild song, precipitated themselves, with their children, into the chasm below, to avoid becoming the slaves
of the enemy.
SHE stood upon the loftiest peak,
Amidst the clear blue sky,
And a dark flash in her eye.
“Dost thou see them, boy ?-through the dusky pines
Dost thou see where the foeman's armour shines ? Hast thou caught the gleam of the conqueror's
crest ? My babe, that I cradled on my breast ! Wouldst thou spring from thy mother's arms with
joy? -That sight hath cost thee a father, boy!”
For in the rocky strait beneath,
Lay Suliote sire and son ;
Before the pass was won.
“ They have cross'd the torrent, and on they come!
And now the horn's loud blast was heard,
And now the cymbal's clang,
As cliff and hollow rang.
“ Hark! they bring music, my joyous child !
What saith the trumpet to Suli's wild !
But nearer came the clash of steel,
And louder swell’d the horn,