^v^.. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I 1.25 |50 "'^~ 2.5 2.2 2.0 1.8 1.4 m .% /^ "<^*:'y 7 Photographic Sciences Corporation 33 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. MS80 (716) 872-4503 V- &?/ U.x CIHM/ICMH Microfiche Series. CIHM/ICMH Collection de microfiches. Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions / Institut Canadian de microreproductions historiques Technical and Bibliographic Notes/Notes techniques et bibliographiques The to t\ The Institute has attempted to obtain the best* original copy available for filming. Features of this copy which may be bibliographically unique, which may alter any of the images in the reproduction, or which may significantly change the usual method of filming, are checked below. 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This item is filmed at the reduction ratio checked below/ Ce document est filmd au taux de reduction indiqui ci-dessous. 10X 14X 18X 22X 26X 30X y 12X 16X 20X 24X 28X 32X e 6tails IS du lodifier r une Image The copy filmed here has been reproduced thanks to the generosity of: National Library of Canada The images appearing here are the best quality possible considering the condition and legibility of the original copy and in keeping with the filming contract specifications. L'e'utmplaire filmd fut reproduit grdoe d la g6n6rosit6 de: Bibliothdque nationale du Canada Les images suivantes ont 6t6 reproduites avec le plus grand soin, compte tenu de la condition et de la nettetd de I'exemplaire film6, et en conformity avec les conditions du contrat de filmage. ts Original copies in printed paper covers are filmed beginning with the front cover and ending on the last page with a printed or illustrated impres- sion, or the back cover when appropriate. 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Maps, plates, charts, etc., may be filmed at different reduction ratios. Those too large to be entirely included in one exposure are filmed beginning in the upper left hand corner, left to right and top to bottom, as many frames as required. The following diagrams illustrate the method: Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent dtre film6s d des taux de reduction diffdrents. Lorsque le document est trop grand pour dtre reproduit en un seul clich6, il est filmd d partir de Tangle sup6rieur gauche, de gauche d droite, et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'images ndcessaire. Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la mdthode. 9rrata to pelure. n 32X 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 POEM OILlVKRICn BBFORB THE SOCIETY OF UNITED BROTHERS, AT •^' ' BROWN UNIVERSITY, ON TUB BAV PIIECBDING n O M M t N C ■ M « NT, SEPTEMBER 6, 1831. WITH OTHER POEMS. m^ BY N. P. WILLIS. ^ctosPovft : PUBLISHED BY J. & J. IIARPEB, NO. 82 CI.irr-STRKKT. ANI» SOLD BY THE PRINCIPAL BOOKSELLERS THROUOHOUT THE uniti5;d states. 1831. I inth«y«on. t..ov,«n.| ««1^' '■-f't"'' Z^^"^^; le, by •'•,*_;•" „Al'.w.Vork. Sh7™lTi.Wc;orN'e«-York TO ONE— Ot WHOM, IN THIS II0M«NT OF DBPARfOHle FOR A KIIUCION LANl., I THINK, BADLY AMD ONLT- T O MY MO THE R, THIS VOLUMK IB, WITH THK DKUPKBT AFFECTION OF IIEK SON, FONDLY AND KBSl'KCTFULLY DEDICATED. il POEM DILIVBRBD BBrORB TUB SOCIETY OF UNITED BROTHERS, AT BROWN UNIVERSITY, On llu day pntnling Coinmttutm§nt, Sept- 6, IS3I| mi ■ it BV N. 1*. WILLIS. ^■^^'W POEM. If in the eyes that rest upon me now I see the light of an immortal fire — If in the awe of concentrated thought, The solemn presence of a multitude Breathing together, the instinctive mind Acknowledges aright a type of God— If every soul that from its chambers dim Answers this summons, be a deathless spark Lit to outbum the ever constant stars,— Then is the ruling spirit of tliis hour Compell'd from Heaven, and if the soaring minds Usher'd this day upon an untr= 1 flight Stoop not their courses, we are jr.et to cheer Spirits of Ught sprung freshly on their way. % %~f 8 POEM. How strangely certain is tho human mina, OodUko and Kiacd us it in, to err I It wakes within a frame of various powers, A stranger in a new and wondrous world. It brings an instinct from some other sphere, For its fine senses arc familiar all, And, with th' unconscious habit of a dream, It calls, and they olx^y. The priceless sight Springs to its curious organ, and the ear Learns strangely to detect the articulate air In its unseen divisions, and the tongue Gets its miraculous lesson with the rest, And in the midst of an obedient throng Of weU-trained ministers, the mind goes forth To search the secrets of a new-found home. Its infancy is full of hope and joy. Knowledge is sweet, and Nature is a nurse Gentle and holy; and the hght and air. And all things common, warm it like the sun. And ripen the eternal seed within. And so its youth glides on ; and still it seems A heavenward spirit, straying oftentimes, But never widely ; and if Death might come And ravish it from earth as it is now. We could ahnost believe that it would mount. I i ^Si. POKM. % t 1' Spotless and radiant, from the very prave. But iniinlicKHl comes, and in its lx)som sits Another spirit. Stranger as it seemfi, It is fannliur thert^, for it han grown In the unsearclid recesses all unseen, — Or if its shadow darkened the bright doors, 'Twas smiled upon and gently driven in; And as the spider and the honey-bee Feed on the same bright flowers, this mocking soul Fed with its purer brother, and grew strong, Till now, in semblance of the soul itself, With its own mien and scej)tre, and a voice Sweet as an angel's and as full of power, It sits, a lx)ld usurper on the throne. What is its nature .^ 'Tis a child of clay. And born of human passions. In its train Follow all things unholy— Love of Gold, Ambition, Pleasure, Pride of place, or name, All that we worship for itself alone. All that we may not carry through the grave. We have made idols of these perishing things Till they have grown time-honored on their shrines. And all men bow to them. Yet \vhat arc they .' What is Ambition ? 'Tis a glorious cheat! Angels of light walk not so daz/Jingly The sapphire walls of Heaven. The unsearch'd mine 10 POEM. Hath not such gems. Earth's coii stellated thrones Have not such pomp of purple and of gold. It hath no features. In its liice is set A mirror, and the gazer sees liis own. It looks a godj but it is like himself! It hath a mien of empery, and smiles Majestically sweet— but how like him ! It follows not with Fortune. It is seen Rarely or never in the rich man's hall. It seeks the chamber of the gifted boy, And lifts his humble window, and conies in. The narrow walls expand, and spread away Into a kingly palace, and the roof Lifts to the sky, and umeen fingers work The ceilings with rich blazonry, and write His name in burning letters over all. And ever, as he shuts his wildered eyes. The phantom comes and lays upon his lids A speir that nuuders sleep, and in his ear Whispers a deathless word, and on his brain Breathes a fierce thirst no water will allay. He is its slave henceforth ! His days are spent In chaining down his heart, and watching where To rise by human weaknesses. His nights Bring liim no rest in all their blessed hours. His kindred are forgotten or estranged. I POEM. 11 Unhealtliful fires burn constant in bis eye. His lip grows restless, and its smile is curl'd Half into scorn — till the bright, fiery boy, That was a daily blessing but to see, His spirit was so bird-like and so pure, Is frozen, in the very flush of youth. Into a cold, care-fretted, heartless man t And what is its reward ? At best, a name ! Praise — when the ear has grown too dull to hear ; Gold — when the senses it should please are dead ; Wreaths — when the hair they cover l. . grown gray ; Fame — when the heart it should have thrill'd is numb ; All things but love — wlien love is all we want. And close behind comes Death, and ere we know That even these unavailing gifts are ours, He sends us, stripp'd and naked, to the grave ! Is it its own reward 1 Reply to it Every aspiring heart within these walls ! Summon the shadows of those bitter hours Wasted in brooding on neglect ! Recall The burning tears wrung from a throbbinj]^ brain By a proud effort foil'd ; and after all These agonies are nurnber'd, rack your heart Back to its own self-nurtur'd wretchedness. 12 POEM. And when the pangs are crowded into one Of all life's scorpion-stings, and Death itself Is sent or stayed, as it would bless or curse, Tell me if self -mis giving torture not Unutterably more ! Yet this is all ! The world has no such glorious phantom else. The spirit that could slave itself to Gold Hath never drunk of knowledge at the well. And Pleasure^ if the senses would expand And multiply with using, might delude The flesh-imprisoned fancy — but not long. And earthly Love — if measured, is too tame — And if it drink, as in proud hearts it will, At the deep springs of life, is but a cloud Brooding with nameless sorrow on the soul — A sadness — a sick-heartedness — a tear ! And these arc the high idols of this world f Retreating shadows cmight but at the grave — Mocking delusions, changing at the touch — Of one false spirit the false children all. And yet, what godlike gifts neglected lie Wasting and niarr'd in the forgotten soul ! The finest workmanship of CjIoiI is there. 'Tis fleeter than the wings of light and wind ; >'. KM. 13 'Tis subtler than the rarest shape of air ; Fire and wind and water do its will ; Earth has no secret from its delicate eye ; The air no alchymy it solveth not ; The star-writ H(?aven8 are read and understood, And every sparry mineral hath a name, And truth is recogniz'd, and beauty felt, And God's own image stamp'd upon its brow. How is it so forgotten I Will it live When the great firmament is rolled away? Hath it a voice forevpr audible, " I AM ETERNAL !" Can it overcome This mocking passion-fiend, and even here Live like a seraph upon truth and light? How can we ever be the slaves we are, With a sweet angel sitting in our breasts ! How can we creep so lowly, when our wings Tremble and plead for fieedom ! Look at him Who reads aright the image on his soul, And gives it nurture like a child of light. His life is calm and blessed, for his peace. Like a rich pearl beyond the diver's ken. Lies deep in his own Iwsom. He is pure, For the soul's errands are not done witli men. % 14 POEM. His senses are subdued and serve the soul. He feels no void, for every faculty Is used, and the fine balance of desire Is perfect, and strains evenly, and on. Content dwells with him, for his mind is fed, And Temperance has driven out unrest. He heaps no gold. It cannot buy him more Of any thing he needs. The air of Heaven Visits no freshhcr the rich man's brow ; He has his portion of each silver star Sent to his eye as freely, and the light Of the blest sun pours on his boolc as clear As on the golden missal of a king. The spicy flowers are free to him ; the sward. And tender moss, and matted forest leaves Are as elastic to his weary feci ; The pictures in the fountains, and beneath The spreading trees, fine pencilings of light, Stay while he gazes on tliem ; the bright birds Know not that he is poor ; and as he comes From his low roof at morn, up goes the lark Mounting and singing to the gate of Heaven, And merrily away the little brook Trips with its feet of silver, and a voice Almost articulate, of perfect joy. Air to his forehead, water to his lips, POEM. 15 Heat to his blood, come just as faithfully. And his own faculties as freely play. IjOVC fills his voice with music, and the tear Springs at as light a bidding to his ey e ; And his free limbs obey him, and his sight Flies on its wondrous errands every where. What docs he need ? Next to the works of God His friends are the rapt sages of old time ; And they impart their wisdom to his soul In lavish fulness, when and where he will. He sits in his mean dwcUuig and communes With Socrates and Plato, and the shades Of all great men and holy, and the words Written in fire by Milton, and the King Of Israel, and the troop of glorious bards. Ravish and steal his soul up to the sky — And what is it to him, if these come in And visit him, that at his humble door There are no pillars with rich capitals And walls of curious workmanship witliin ? I stand not here in Wisdom's sacred stole. My lips have not been touch'd with holy fire. An humbler office than a counsellor Of human duties, and an humbler place 16 POEM. Would better grace my knowledge and my years. I would not seem presuming. Yet have I Mingled a little in this earnest world, And staked ui^n its chances, and have learned Truths that I never gather'd from my books. And though the lessons they have taught me seem Things of the wayside to the practised «i«?/, It is a wisdom by much wandering learned; And if but one young spirit bend its wing More in the eye of Heaven because it knew The erring courses that bewildered mine, I have not sufiered, nor shall teach in vain. It is a lesson oftener learned than loved— All knowledge is not nourishment. The mind May pine upon its food. In reckless thirst The scholar sometimes kneels l^eside the stream Polluted by the lepers of the mind. The sceptic, with his doubts of all things good And faith in all things evil, has been there; And, as the stream was mingled, he has strown The shore with all bright flowers to tempt the eye, And sloped the banks down gently for the feet ; And Genius, like a fallen child of light. Has filled the place with magic, and compell'd Most beautiful creations into forms t POEM. 17 And images of license, and they come And tempt you with bewildering grace to kneel And drink of the wild waters; and behind Stand the strong Passions, pleading to go in; And the approving world looks silent on; Till the pleased mind conspires against itself, And finds a subtle reason why 'tis good. We are deceived, though, even as we drink, We taste the evil. In his sweetest tone The lying Tempter whispers in our ear, «Tho' it may s^ain, 'twill strengthen your proud wings ;" And in the wild ambition of the soul We drink anew, and dream like Lucifer To mount upon our daring draught to Heaven. I need not follow the similitude. Health is vitality, and if the mind Is fed on poison, it must lose its power. The vision that forever strains to err Soon finds its task a habit; and the taste That will own nothing true or beautiful Soon finds the world distorted as itself; And the loose mind, that feeds an appetite For the enticements of licentious thought. Contracts a leprosy that oversteals Its senses, like a palsy, chill, and fast. 18 POEM. The soul must be in health to keep its powers. " It must lie open to the iuilucnces Of all thinj^s pure anil simple. Like a flower Within a stifled chamber, it will droop If hidden from the pleasant sun and air ; And every delicate fibre must have rooai ■ To quicken and extend, and more than all, The stream that gives it moisturii Vnusl be pure. Another lesson with my manhood came. I have unlearned contempt. It is the sin That is engender'd earliest in the soul, And doth beset it like a poison-worm, Feeding on aU its beauty. As it steals Into the bosom you niay see the light Of the clear, heavenly eye grow cold and dim. And the fine, upright glory of the brow Cloud with mistrust, and the uhfettcr'd lip. That was as free and changeful as the wind, Even in sadness redolent of love, Curl'd with the iciness of a constant scorn. It eats into the mind till it pollutes All its pure fountains. Feeling, reason, taste Breathe of its chill corruption. Every sense That could convey a pleasure is Ijcnumb'd, And the bright human being, that was made V POEM. la Full of ull warm afreclioiiH, junl with |H)Wcr * To Itjok throiif^h all things lov«'ly up to GchI, Is changed into a cold and doubting fiend, With but one uae for reason— /o despise ! Oh if there is one law al)ove the rest Written in wisdom—if there is a word Tiiat I would trace as with a pen of fire Upon the unsunn'd tcmiJcr of a child— If there is any thing that kec[)s the mind Open to angel visits, and repels The ministry of ill-£tis human love ! J God has made nothing worthy of contempt. The smallest pebble in the well of truth Has its peculiar meaning, and will stand When man's best monuments have passed away. The law of Heaven is love and though its name ; Has been usurp'd by passion, and profaned To its unholy uses through all time, Still, the eternal principle is pure; And in these deep affections that we feel Omnipotent within us, we but see The lavish measure in which love is given, And in the yearning tenderness of a child For every bird that sings above his head. And every creatine feeding on the hills, .■ < fe < i»^i * t* - pf'' 20 P K M . And every tree, and flower, and running brook, Wo see how every thing was made to love, And how they err, who, in a world like this, Find any tiling to hate but human pride ! Oh, if we are not bitterly deceived— If this familiar spirit that communes With yours this hour-that has the i^owcr to search All things but its own compass— is a spark Struck from the burning essence of its God— If, as we dream, in every radiant star We see a shining gate through which the soul, In its degrees of being, will ascend— If, when these weary organs drop away. We shall forget their uses, and comnume With angels and each other, as the stars Mingle their hght, in silence and in lovo— What is this ileshly fetter of a day That we should bind it with immortal dowers! How do we ever gaze u})on the sky. And watch the lark soar up till he is lost. And turn to our poor perishing dreams away, Without one tear for our imprisoned wings ! ^m THE DYING ALCHYMIST. The night-wind with a desolate moan swei)t by, And the old Bhiitters of the turret swung Screaming ui^n their hinges, and the moon, As the torn edges of the clouds Hew past, Struggled aslant the stained and broken panes So dimly, that the watchful eye of death Scarcely was conscious when it went and came. The fire beneath his crucible was low; Yet still it burned, and ever as his thoughts Grew insupportable, he raised himself Upon his wasted arm, and stirred the coals With difficult energy, and when the rod Fell from his nerveless fingers, and his eye Felt faint within its socket, he shnmk back Upon his iMillet, and with unclosed \\\)s :'PJ:^- '^i ^ IE J»»«f« AUnVMiHT, Mutteiti^ fl curse on lU "^th ? Tlic silo^il. room Frorn i's dim corners mt-jckinffly ffavo Ixick Hw rattkiiiyr ])roath ; Uic hmimung in the firo Had ihfi »iist,inctn<'ss of a knell, and when Duly tho AHil|i/(/ horoh i','o bent one, He tlrcw a phial tn m beneath hia heail, And drank. And instantly his lips eonipresHCil, And with a Hhudder in his Hkoleton frame, Ho rose with sui)crnatinal strength, and sat Upright, and coniiniined with himself; — I did not think to die Till I had finished what 1 had to do; I thought to pierce tli' eternal secret through With this my mortal eye; r felt — Oh Go(f!^ it seemcth even novv This cannot be the death-dew on my brow. And yet it is — 1 feel Of this dull sickness at my heart afraid ; And in rny eyes the death-sparks Hash and fade ; And something seems to steal Over my bosom like a frozen hand. Binding it-- pulses \\'\\h an icy band. ,ft(,ii^,ra|M^l(*(i**WS*' TIIK nVINO ALniYMIflT. 23 Ami tluH in (lontli! Hut why Feci I this wild tDcoil? It mnnot bo Th' iniiuorlJil spirit bhiiddercth to be free! Would it not kn[) to lly, Like a chaiiuMl caglot ut \t^ paront'n rail { I fear— 1 fenr that thin p(X)r hie is uU ! Yrt thus to [KISS away ! — To hvo but for a ho|)c that mocks at last- To agonize, to strive, to watcli, to fast, To waste the light of day, Night's better beauty, feeling, fancy, thought. All that wc have and are—for tliis— for nought! Gnmt me another year, G(k1 of m) spirit ! — but a day— to win Something to satisfy this thirst within! I would know something here! Break for me but one seal that is imbrokcn ! Speak for mo but one word that is unsiwken ! Vain — vain !— ray brain is turning With a swift dizziness, and my htuut grows sick, And these hot tcmple-lluobs come fast and tliick. 24 THE DYINO AT^CllYMTST. And I am freezing— burning— Dvingl OhGodl ifl might onlyjivc!- My phial ^Ha! it thrills me-I revive. ****** j^y__vrere not man to die He were too glorious for this narrow sphere. Had he but time to brood on knowledge here- Could he but train his eye- Might he but wait the mystic word and hour- Only his Maker would Uanscend his power . Earth has no mineral strange— Th' illimitable air no liidden wings- Water no quality in its covert springs, And fire no power to change- Seasons no mystery, and stars no speU, Which the unwasting soul might not compel. Oh, but for time to track The upper stars into the pathless sky- To see th' invisible spirits, eye to eye- To hurl the lightning back- To tread unhurt the sea's dim-lighted halls- To chase Day's chaiiot to the horizon walls- THE DYING ALCHYMIST. 25 And more, much more — for now The hfe-sealed fountains of my nature move — To nurse and purify this liuman love — To clear the god-like Ijrow Of weakness and mistrust, and bow it down, Worthy and beautiful, to the much-loved one — This were indeed to feel The soul-thirst slaken at the living stream — To live — Oh God ! that hfe is but a dream! And death Aha ! I reel-*- Dim — dim — I faint — darkness comes o'er my eye- Cover rae! save me! Gofl of Heaven ! I die! 'Twas morning, and the old man lay alone — No friend had closed his eyelids, and his lips. Open and ashy pale, th' expression wore Of his death-struggle. His long silvery hair Lay OP his hollow temples thin and wild. His frame was wasted, and his features wan And haggard as with want, and in his palm His nails were driven deep, as if the throe Of the last agony had wrung him sore. The storm was raging still. The shutters swung Screaming as harshly in the fitful wind. 26 THE DYING ALCHYMIST. And all without went on— as aye it will Sunshine or tempest, reckless that a heart Is breaking, or has broken in its change. The fire beneath the crucible was out ; The vessels of his mystic art lay round, Useless and cold as the ambitious hand That fashioned them, and the smaU silver rod, Familiar to his touch for threescore years. Lay on th' alembic's rim, as if it still Might vex the elements at its master's wiU. And thus had passed from its unequal frame A soul of fire— a sun-bent eagle stricken From his high soaring down-an instrument Broken with its own compass. He was born Taller than he might walk beneath the stars, And with a spirit tempered like a god's, He was sent blindfold on a path of light, And turn'd aside and perished ! Oh how poor Seems the rich gift of genius, when it lies. Like the adventurous bird that hath out-flown His strength upon the sea, ambition-wrecked— A thing the thrush might pity, as she sits Brooding in quiet on her lowly nest. i; I* THE LEPER. " Room for the leper ! Room ! " And as he came The cry passed on — " Room for the leper! Room!" Sunrise was slanting on the city gates Rosy and beautiful, and from the hills The early risen poor were coming in Duly and cheerfully to their toil, and up Rose the sharp hammer's clink, and the far hum Of moving wheels and multitudes astir, And all that in a city murmur swells, Unheard Imt by the watcher's weary ear, Aching with night's dull silence, or (he sick Hailing the welcome light, and sounds that chase The death-like imaged of the dark away. " Room for the leper!" And aside they stood Matron, and child, and pitiless manhootl— all h Im . I 28 THE LEPER. Who met him on his way— and let him pass. And onward through the open gate he came, A leper with the ashes on his brow, Sackcloth about his loins, and on his lip A covering, stepping painfully and slow, And witli a difficult utterance, like one Whose heart is with an iron nerve put down, Crying " Unclean !— Unclean ! " 'Twas now the depth Of the Judean summer, and the leaves Whose shadows lay so still upon his path, Had budded on the clear and flashing eye Of Judah's loftiest noble. He was young, And eminently beautiful, and life Mantled in eloquent fulness on his lip. And sparkled in his glance, and in his mien There was a gracious pride that every eye Followed with bcnisons— and this was he! With the soft airs of Summer there had come A torpor on his frame, which not the speed Of his best barb, nor nmsic, nor the blast Of the bold huntsman's horn, nor aught that stirs The spirit to its bent, might drive away. The blood beat not as wont within his veins; Dimness crept o'er his eye; a drowsy sloth THE LEPER. 29 Fettered his limbs like palsy, and his port, With all its loftiness, seemed struck with eld. Even his voice was changed — a languid moan Taking the place of the clear, silver key; And brain and sense grew faint, as if the light, And very air, were steeped in sluggishness. He strove with it awhile, as manhood will, Ever too proud for weakness, till the rein Slackened within his grasp, and in its poise The arrowy jereed like an aspen shook. Day after day he lay as if in sleep. His skin grew dry and bloodless,' and white scales Circled with livid purple, covered him. And then his nails grew black, and fell away From the dull flesh about them, and the hues Dee|)ened beneath the hard unmoistened scales, And from their edges grew the rank white hair, — And Helon was a lepei ! Day was breaking^ When at the altar of the temple stood The holy priest of God. The incense lamp Burned with a struggling light, and a low chant Swelled through the hollow arches of the roof liike an articulate wail, and there, alone. Wasted to ghastly thinness, Helon knelt. 30 THE LEPER. The echoes of the melancholy strain Died in the distant aisles, and he rose up, Struggling with weakness, and bowed down his head Unto the sprinkled ashes, and put off His costly raiment for the leper's garb. And with the sackcloth round him, and his lip Hid in a loathsome covering, stood still Waiting to hear his doom: — Depart! depart, O child Of Israel, from the temple of thy Gotl, For He has smote thfee with his chastening rod, And to the desert wild From all thou lov'st away thy feet must flee. That from thy plague His people may be free. Depart! and come not near The busy mart, the crowded city, more; Nor set thy foot a human threshold o"er: And stay thou not to hear Voices that call thee in the way; and fly From all who in the wilderness pass by. Wet not thy burning lip In streams that to a human dwelling glide; Nor rest thee where the covert fountains hide, THE LEPER. 31 Nor kneel thee down to dip The water where the pilgrim bends to drink, By desert well, or river's grassy brink. And pass thou not between The weary traveller and the cooling breeze. And he not down to sleep beneath the tree^ Where human tracks are seen; Nor milk the goat that browseth on the plain, Nor pluck the standing corn, or yellow grain. And now depart ! and when Thy heart is heavy, and thine eyes are dim. Lift up thy prayer beseechingly to Him Who, from the tribes of men. Selected thee to feel his chastening rod — Depart! O leper! and forget not God 1 And he went forth — alone ! not one of all The many whom he loved, nor she whose name Was woven in the fibres of the heart Breaking within him now, to come and speak Comfort unto him. Yea— he went his way, Sick and heart-broken, and alone — to die! — For God had cursed the leper! I 38 THE LEPER. It was noon, And Helon knelt beside a stagnant pool In the lone wilderness, and bathed his brow, Hot with the burning leprosy, and touched The loathsome water to his fevered lips. Praying that he might be so blest — to die! FootsteiM approached, and with no strength to flee, He drew the covering closer on his lip. Crying " Unclean! Unclean !" and in the folds Of the coarse sackcloth shrouding up his face, He fell upon the earth till they should pass. Nearer the stranger came, and bending o'er The leper's prostrate form, pronounced his name. "Helon!" — the voice was Hke the master-tone Of a rich instrimient— most strangely sweet; And the dull pulses of disease awoke, And for a moment beat beneath the hot And leprous scales with a restoring thrill. " Helon! arise!" and he forgot his curse, And rose and stood before him. Love and awe Mingled in the regard of Helon's eye As he beheld the stranger. He was not In costly raiment clad, nor on his brow The symbol of a princely lineage wore; THE LCPER. 33 No followers at his back, nor in his hand Buckler, or sword, or speor — yet in his mien Command sat throned serene, and if he smiled, A kingly condoHceusion "graced his lips, The lion would have croucluMl to iu his lair. His garb was simple, and his sandids worn; His stature modcjled with a ptufect grace ; His countenance, the impress of a Go