« PreviousContinue »
Making its banks green gems along the wild,
Of weeping and sad song.—“Alas,” she cried,
“Alas! my boy, thy gentle grasp is on me,
How shall I hence depart
“ How the lone paths retrace where thou wert playing So late, along the mountains, at my side ?
And I, in joyous pride,
Beholding thee so fair!
“ And oh! the home whence thy bright smile hath
parted, Will it not seem as if the sunny day
Turn’d from its door away ? While through its chambers wandering, weary-hearted, I languish for thy voice, which past me still
Went like a singing rill?
“Under the palin-trees thou no more shalt meet me, When from the fount at evening I return,
With the full water-urn; Nor will thy sleep's low dove-like breathings greet me, As 'midst the silence of the stars I wake,
And watch for thy dear sake.
“ And thou, will slumber's dewy cloud fall round thee, Without thy mother's hand to smooth thy bed?
Wilt thou not vainly spread
Thine arms, when darkness as a veil hath wound thee,
which none shall hear ?
“What have I said, my child ? —Will He not hear thee, Who the young ravens heareth from their nest ?
Shall He not guard thy rest,
Thou shalt sleep soft, my boy!
“ I give thee to thy God—the God that gave thee, ,
And precious as thou art,
And thou shalt be His child.
“ Therefore, farewell !-I go, my soul may fail me,
Yearning for thy sweet looks-
The Rock of Strength.–Farewell !”
THE CHILD AND DOVE.
SUGGESTED BY CHANTREY'S STATUE OF LADY LOUISA RUS
Thou art a thing on our dreams to rise,
Thou art a thing to recall the hours,
Are they gone? can we think it, while thou art there,
No! never more may we smile as thou
A memory of beauty undimm'd as thine.
To have met the joy of thy speaking face,
One vision away of the cloudless morn.