64 LAYS OF MANY LANDS. But I depart like sound, like dew, like aught that leaves on earth No trace of sorrow or delight, no memory of its birth! "And farewell, mother!-I have borne in lonely silence 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 may'st weep for him on whom thou ne'er hast smiled, And the grave give his birthright back to thy neglected child! Might but my spirit then return, and 'midst its kindred dwell, And quench its thirst with love's free tears!-'tis all a dream -farewell!"" "Farewell!"-the echo died with that deep word, By the strain quicken'd in the mother's breast! 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, "Dost thou see them, boy?-through the dusky pines Wouldst thou spring from thy mother's arms with joy? For in the rocky strait beneath, They had heap'd high the piles of death "They have cross'd the torrent, and on they coine! And now the horn's loud blast was heard, As cliff and hollow rang. "Hark! they bring music, my joyous child!. -Still!-be thou still!-there are brave men low- But nearer came the clash of steel, 66 LAYS OF MANY LANDS. "Hear'st thou the sound of their savage mirth? THE FAREWELL TO THE DEAD. The following piece is founded on a beautiful part of the Greek funeral service in which relatives and friends are invited to embrace the deceased (whose face is uncovered) and to bid their final adieu. See Christian Researches in the Mediterranean. 'Tis hard to lay into the earth A countenance so benign! a form that walk'd COME near!-ere yet the dust, Soil the bright paleness of the settled brow, Come near!-once more let kindred lips be press'd Look yet on this young face! What shall the beauty, from among us gone, Wilson. Din grows the semblance on man's heart impress'd- Ye weep, and it is well! For tears befit earth's partings!-Yesterday, Where'er he moved-the welcome and the bless'd! Look yet on him, whose eye Meets yours no more, in sadness or in mirth! The beings born to die? -But not where death has power may love be bless'd Come near! and bear ye the beloved to rest! How may the mother's heart Dwell on her son, and dare to hope again? Is he not gone, our brightest and our best? Look on him! is he laid To slumber from the harvest or the chase? Death holds not long unchang'd his fairest guest,- His voice of mirth had ceased Amidst the vineyards! there is left no place Earth must take earth to moulder on her breast; Whose spirit's light is quench'd-for him the past All is not here of our beloved and bless'd- MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. THE TREASURES OF THE DEEP. WHAT hid'st thou in thy treasure-caves and cells? We ask not such from thee. Yet more, the depths have more !-what wealth untold, Yet more, the depths have more! thy waves have roll'd Sand hath fill'd up the palaces of old, Sea-weed o'ergrown the halls of revelry. Yet more! the billows and the depths have more! Give back the lost and lovely!-those for whom |