Abbildungen der Seite
PDF
EPUB

That may be claimed again which was but lent,
And must be yielded without discontent,

And surely, we can find in this no wrong

That it was left us to enjoy so long."

"Good is the word," she answered, " may we now,

And evermore that it is good allow,"

And, rising, to an inner chamber led:

And there she showed him stretched upon one bed
Two children pale—and he the jewels knew
Which God had lent him, and resumed anew.

R. C. TRENCH.

CXXVIII

STANZAS.

Some murmur, when their sky is clear
And wholly bright to view,

If one small speck of dark appear

In their great heaven of blue:
And some with thankful love are filled
If but one streak of light,
One ray of God's good mercy, gild

The darkness of their night.

In palaces are hearts that ask,
In discontent and pride,
Why life is such a dreary task,
And all good things denied:

And hearts in poorest huts admire
How love has, in their aid
(Love that not ever seems to tire)

Such rich provision made.

R. C. TRENCH.

CXXIX

THE BETTER LAND.

"I hear thee speak of the better land, Thou call'st its children a happy band; Mother! oh, where is that radiant shore? Shall we not seek it and weep no more? Is it where the flower of the orange blows, And the fire-flies glance thro' the myrtle boughs?" "Not there, not there, my child!"

"Is it where the feathery palm-trees rise,
And the date grows ripe under sunny skies?
Or midst the green islands of glittering seas,
Where fragrant forests perfume the breeze,
And strange bright birds on their starry wings
Bear the rich hues of all glorious things?"

"Not there, not there, my child!"

"Is it far away in some region old,

Where the rivers wander o'er sands of gold,
Where the burning rays of the ruby shine,
And the diamond lights up the secret mine,

And the pearl gleams forth from the coral strand ;
Is it there, sweet mother! that better land?"
"Not there, not there, my child!

แ Eye hath not seen it, my gentle boy?
Ear hath not heard its deep songs of joy;
Dreams cannot picture a world so fair—
Sorrow and death may not enter there:
Time doth not breathe on its fadeless bloom,
For beyond the clouds, and beyond the tomb,
It is there, it is there, my child! ”

F. HEMANS.

CXXX

THE SERENADE.

"What sounds so sweet awake me?
What fills me with delight?

Oh, mother, look! who sings thus
So sweetly through the night?"

"I hear not child, I see not—
Oh sleep thou softly on!
Comes now to serenade thee
Thou poor sick maiden, none!"

"It is not earthly music
That gives me such delight-
I hear the angels call me-
Oh! mother dear, good night!"

From the German of Uhland.

CXXXI

THE PILGRIM FATHERS.

The breaking waves dashed high
On a stern and rock-bound coast,
And the woods against a stormy sky
Their giant branches tossed;

And the heavy night hung dark
The hills and waters o'er,

When a band of exiles moored their bark
On the wild New England shore.

Not as the conqueror comes,

They, the true-hearted came;
Not with the roll of the stirring drums,
And the trumpet that sings of fame;

Not as the flying come,

In silence and in fear ;

They shook the depths of the desert gloom

With their hymns of lofty cheer.

Amidst the storm they sang,

And the stars heard and the sea;

And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang

To the anthem of the free!

The ocean eagle soared

From his nest by the white wave's foam; And the rocking pines of the forest roaredThis was their welcome home!

There were men with hoary hair
Amidst the pilgrim band;-
Why had they come to wither there,
Away from their childhood's land?

There was woman's fearless eye,
Lit by her deep love's truth;
There was manhood's brow serenely high,
And the fiery heart of youth.

What sought they thus afar?

Bright jewels of the mine?

The wealth of seas, the spoils of war ?—
They sought a faith's pure shrine!

Ay, call it holy ground,

The soil where first they trod;

They have left unstained what there they found—

Freedom to worship God!

F. HEMANS.

« ZurückWeiter »