THE BRIDE OF THE GREEK ISLE.* Fear!-I'm a Greek, and how should I fear death? A slave, and wherefore should I dread my freedom? I will not live degraded. Sardanapalus. I. COME from the woods with the citron-flowers, *Founded on a circumstance related in the Second Series of the Curiosities of Literature, and forming part of a picture in the "Painted Biography" there described. Jewels flash'd out from her braided hair, For the aspect of woman at times too high, Of the soul sent up o'er its fervid beam. She look'd on the vine at her father's door, Each hue of her childhood's faded track. Oh! hush the song, and let her tears Flow to the dream of her early years! Holy and pure are the drops that fall When the young bride goes from her father's hall; She goes unto love yet untried and new, She parts from love which hath still been true; Till her heart's deep well-spring is clear again! The choking swell of her heart was past; And her lovely thoughts from their cells found way In the sudden flow of a plaintive lay.3 THE BRIDE'S FAREWELL. Why do I weep?-to leave the vine The myrtle-yet, oh! call it mine!— A thousand thoughts of all things dear, Like shadows o'er me sweep, Oh, therefore let me weep! I leave thee, sister! we have play'd Where the silvery green of the olive shade Have been as we may be no more— I leave thee, father! Eve's bright moon Must now light other feet, With the gather'd grapes, and the lyre in tune, Thy homeward step to greet. Thou in whose voice, to bless thy child, Lay tones of love so deep, Whose eye o'er all my youth hath smiled I leave thee! let me weep! Mother! I leave thee! on thy breast, Pouring out joy and wo, I have found that holy place of rest Lips, that have lull'd me with your strain, And like a slight young tree, that throws Thou rearest the lovely to see them go! |