And some, in the gloomy convict-cell, And some to the peal of the hunter's horn, So are we roused on this chequered earth, Though fearful or joyous, though sad or sweet, But one must the sound be, and one the call, Pouring itself away, As a wild bird amidst the foliage turns That swells, and floats, and dies, Yet, yet remember me! Friends! that upon its murmurs oft have hung, Under the dark rich blue Of midnight heavens, and on the star-lit sea, And in the marble halls, Where life's full glow the dreams of beauty wear, Fain would I bind for you They died-as on the water's breast The ripple melts away, When the breeze that stirred it sinks to rest So perished they! Mysterious in their sudden birth, And mournful in their close, Passing, and finding not on earth Aim or repose. Whence were they?-like the breath of flowers A long, long journey must be ours Ere this we know! THE FORSAKEN HEARTH. Was mir fehlt 2-Mir fehlt ja alles, THE Hearth, the Hearth is desolate, the fire is quenched and gone, That into happy children's eyes once brightly laughing shone; The place where mirth and music met is hushed through day and night, Oh! for one kind, one sunny face, of all that there made light! But scattered are those pleasant smiles afar by mount and shore, Like gleaming waters from one spring dispersed to meet no more; One haply revels at the feast, while one may droop alone, For broken is the household chain, the bright fire quenched and gone! Not so 't is not a broken chain-thy memory binds them still, Thou holy Hearth of other days, though silent now and chill! The smiles, the tears, the rites beheld by thine attesting stone, Have yet a living power to mark thy children for thine own. The father's voice, the mother's prayer, though called from earth away, With music rising from the dead, their spirits yet shall sway; And by the past, and by the grave, the parted yet PEACE to thy dreams!-thou art slumbering now, The moonlight's calm is upon thy brow; All the deep love that o'erflows thy breast, Lies 'midst the hush of thy heart at rest, Unbound is that sweet wreath of home-alas! the Like the scent of a flower in its folded bell, lonely Hearth! Those kindred eyes reflect not now each other's joy or mirth, The voices that have mingled here now speak ano ther tongue, Or breathe, perchance, to alien ears the songs their mother sung: Sad, strangely sad, in stranger lands, must sound each household tone, The Hearth, the Hearth is desolate, the bright fire quenched and gone. When eve through the woodlands hath sighed Peace!-the sad memories that through the day But are they speaking, singing yet, as in their days Slumber divides not the heart from its wo. E'en now o'er thine aspect swift changes pass, Those voices, are they lovely still, still sweet on Like lights and shades over wavy grass: earth or sea? Oh! some are hushed, and some are changed, and never shall one strain Blend their fraternal cadences triumphantly again! Tremblest thou, Dreamer?-O love and grief! On thy parted lips there's a quivering thrill, And of the hearts that here were linked by long-On the long silk lashes that fringe thine eye, remembered years, There's a large tear gathering heavily; Alas! the brother knows not now when fall the A rain from the clouds of thy spirit pressedsister's tears! Sorrowful Dreamer! this is not rest! What roof with dark, deep, summer foliage crowned, O! fair as ocean's foam! Shall thy bright bosom shed a gleam around? Or seek'st thou some old shrine Of nymph or saint, no more by votary woocd, Yet wherefore ask thy way? Bearing no dark remembrance at thy heart! No echoes that will blend A sadness with the whispers of the grove; Far off, or dead, or changed to thee, thou dove! Oh! to some cool recess Take, take me with thee on the summer wind, Leaving the weariness And all the fever of this life behind: The aching and the void Within the heart whereunto none reply, The young bright hopes destroyed- PSYCHE BORNE BY ZEPHYRS TO THE ISLAND OF PLEASURE⭑ Souvent l'ame, fortifiée par la contemplation des choses divines, voudroit déployer ses ailes vers le ciel. Elle croit qu'au terme de sa carrière un rideau va se lever pour lui découvrir des scènes de lumière: mais quand la mort touche son corps périssable, elle jette un regard en arrière vers les plaisirs terrestres et vers ses compagnes mortelles-Schlegel Translated by Madame de Staël. FEARFULLY and mournfully Thou bidd'st the earth farewell, And yet thou 'rt passing, loveliest one! In a brighter land to dwell. Ascend, ascend rejoicing! The sunshine of that shore Around thee, as a glorious robe, Shall stream for evermore. The breezy music wandering There through th' Elysian sky, Hath no deep tone that seems to float From a happier time gone by: And there the day's last crimson Gives no sad memories birth, No thought of dead or distant friends, Or partings-as on earth. Yet fearfully and mournfully Thou bidd'st that earth farewell, Although thou 'rt passing, loveliest one! In a brighter land to dwell. A land where all is deathless- ⚫ Written for a picture in which Psyche, on her flight upwards, is represented looking back sadly and anxiously to the earth. A land that sees no parting, That hears no sound of sighs, Oh! how like thee, thou trembler ! We pant, we thirst for fountains That gush not here below! For communings more full and high We shrink-and clasp our chain! And fearfully and mournfully We bid the earth farewell, Though passing from its mists, like thee, In a brighter world to dwell. THE BOON OF MEMORY. Many things answered me.-Manfred. I Go, I go!-and must mine image fade, Must my life part from each familiar place, Will the friend pass my dwelling, and forget All the sweet counsel, the communion high, A boon, a talisman, O Memory! give, Bid the wind speak of me where I have dwelt, In the rich rose, whose bloom I loved so well, Set deep that thought! And let the sunset's melancholy glow, And Memory answered me:-" Wild wish and vain! The place they held in bosoms all their own, Hast thou such power, O Love?-And Love replied, "It is not mine! Pour out thy soul's full tide Of hope and trust, Prayer, tear, devotedness, that boon to gain'Tis but to write, with the heart's fiery rain, Wild words on dust!" THE GRAVES OF MARTYRS. THE kings of old have shrine and tomb, In many a minster's haughty gloom; And green, along the ocean side, The mounds arise where heroes died; But show me, on thy flowery breast, Earth! where thy nameless martyrs rest! The thousands that, uncheered by praise, Have made one offering of their days; For Truth, for Heaven, for Freedom's sake, Resigned the bitter cup to take, And silently, in fearless faith, Bowing their noble souls to death. And let the spring's first whisper, faint and low, Where sleep they, Earth?—by no proud stone With me be fraught! Their narrow couch of rest is known; The still sad glory of their name, Hallows no mountain unto Fame; No-not a tree the record bears Of their deep thoughts and lonely prayers. Yet haply all around lie strewed It may be that each day we tread, Oh! that the many-rustling leaves, Would not our inmost hearts be stilled, Yet what if no light footstep there DREAMS OF HEAVEN. DREAM'ST thou of Heaven ?-What dreams are thine? Fair child, fair gladsome child! Tell me what hues th' immortal shore "Oh! beautiful is heaven, and bright With long, long summer days! Thou Poet of the lonely thought, Oh! where the living waters flow Along that radiant shore, My soul, a wanderer here, shall know "The burden of the stranger's heart Which here unknown I bear, Free thought shall claim its dower Of glory and of power." O, Woman! with the soft sad eye By thy sweet mournful voice I know, That thou hast loved in silent wo, "Oh! Heaven is where no secret dread May haunt Love's meeting hour; "Where every severed wreath is bound; THE END. |