Imágenes de páginas
PDF
EPUB

Vain voice of fame! sad sound for those that weep!
For her, the mother, in whose bosom lone
Thy childhood dwells-whose thoughts a record
keep

Of smiles departed and sweet accents gone;
Of all thine early grace and gentle worth-
A vernal promise, faded now from earth!

But a bright memory claims a proud regret-
A lofty sorrow finds its own deep springs
Of healing balm; and she hath treasures yet
Whose soul can number with love's holy things,
A name like thine! Now, past all cloud or spot,
A gem is hers, laid up where change is not.

THE BROKEN CHAIN.

I AM free! I have burst through my galling chain, The life of young eagles is mine again;

I may cleave with my bark the glad sounding sea, I may rove where the wind roves-my path is free!

The streams dash in joy down the summer hill, The birds pierce the depths of the sky at will, The arrow goes forth with the singing breeze,And is not my spirit as one of these?

Oh! the green earth with its wealth of flowers, And the voices that ring through its forest bowers, And the laughing glance of the founts that shine, Lighting the valleys-all, all are mine!

I may urge through the desert my foaming steed,
The wings of the morning shall lend him speed;
I may meet the storm in its rushing glee-
Its blasts and its lightnings are not more free!

Captive and hast thou then rent thy chain?
Art thou free in the wilderness, free on the main?
Yes! there thy spirit may proudly soar,
But must thou not mingle with throngs the more?

The bird when he pineth, may hush his song,
Till the hour when his heart shall again be strong;
But thou canst thou turn in thy woe aside,
And weep, midst thy brethren? No, not for pride.

May the fiery word from thy lip find way, [day? When the thoughts burning in thee shall spring to May the care that sits in thy weary breast

Look forth from thine aspect, the revel's guest?

No! with the shaft in thy bosom borne,
Thou must hide the wound in thy fear of scorn;
Thou must fold thy mantle that none may see,
And mask thee with laughter, and say thou art free.

No! thou art chain'd till thy race is run,
By the power of all in the soul of one;
On thy heart, on thy lip, must the fetter be--
Dreamer! fond dreamer! oh, who is free?

THE SHADOW OF A FLOWER.

"La voila telle que la mort nous l'a faite."-BOSSUET. ["Never was a philosophical imagination more beautiful than that exquisite one of Kircher, Digby, and others, who discovered in the ashes of plants their primitive forms, which were again raised up by the power of heat. The ashes of roses, say they, will again revive in roses, unsubstantial and unodoriferous; they are not roses which grow on rose-trees, but their delicate apparitions, and, like apparitions, they are seen but for a moment."-Curiosities of Literature.]

'Twas a dream of olden days

That Art, by some strange power, The visionary form could raise

From the ashes of a flower.

That a shadow of the rose,

By its own meek beauty bow'd, Might slowly, leaf by leaf, unclose, Like pictures in a cloud.

Or the hyacinth, to grace,

As a second rainbow, spring; Of summer's path a dreary trace, A fair, yet mournful thing!

For the glory of the bloom

That a flush around it shed, And the soul within, the rich perfume, Where were they? Fled, all fled !

Naught but the dim, faint line

To speak of vanish'd hours.Memory! what are joys of thine? -Shadows of buried flowers!

LINES TO A BUTTERFLY RESTING ON A SKULL.

CREATURE of air and light! Emblem of that which will not fade or die!

[blocks in formation]
[blocks in formation]
[blocks in formation]
[blocks in formation]

["These two little pieces," (" He walked with God," and "The Rod of Aaron,") says the author in one of her letters, "are part of a collection I think of forming, to be called Sacred Lyrics. They are all to be on scriptural subjects, and to go through the most striking events of the Old Testament, to those far more deeply affecting ones of the New." Two others ("The Voice of God" and "The Fountain of Marah") are subjoined, as having been probably intended to form a part of the same series.]

HE walk'd with God, in holy joy,

While yet his days were few; The deep, glad spirit of the boy

To love and reverence grew.

Whether, each nightly star to count,

The ancient hills he trode,

Or sought the flowers by stream and fountAlike he walk'd with God.

The graver noon of manhood came,

The full of cares and fears;

One voice was in his heart-the same
It heard through childhood's years.
Amidst fair tents, and flocks, and swains,
O'er his green pasture-sod,

THE ROD OF AARON.
NUMBERS, XVII VIII.

WAS it the sigh of the southern gale
That flush'd the almond bough?
Brightest and first the young spring to hail,
Still its red blossoms glow.

Was it the sunshine that woke its flowers
With a kindling look of love?

Oh! far and deep, and through hidden bowers,
That smile of heaven can rove!

No! from the breeze and the living light Shut was the sapless rod;

But it felt in the stillness a secret might, And thrill'd to the breath of God.

E'en so may that breath, like the vernal air,
O'er our glad spirits move;

And all such things as are good and fair
Be the blossoms, its track that prove!

THE VOICE OF GOD.

"I heard thy voice in the garden, and I was afraid."-GEN. iii. 10. AMIDST the thrilling leaves, Thy voice

At evening's fall drew near; Father and did not man rejoice That blessed sound to hear?

« AnteriorContinuar »