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 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 LEAH.
 
 a^^ 
 
 
 LEAH, -^^ 
 
 ECCE HOMO, 
 
 %\\i sA\tx %u\\\^. 
 
 BY 
 
 EDWARD W. PRICE. 
 
 Operosa parvus 
 
 Carmina fingo. 
 
 LONDON : 
 D ALTON AND LUCY, 
 
 nOOKSELLERS TO TUE QUEEN, AND TO THE PRINCE OP WALES, 
 
 28, COCKSPUR STREET. 
 
 MDCCCLXIV.
 
 ?R 
 
 DEDICATION. 
 
 Wa mg <^atli4it. 
 
 T Father, since to thee I owe my birth, 
 To thee I dedicate, in filial love, 
 My labour's fruit. — It is not that I deem 
 Them worthy of the name to me most dear, 
 Yet 'tis in hope that thou mayst in them see 
 Some offspring of thy ever-fostering care. 
 Love toward a Father is the noblest grace 
 Our fallen nature clings to ; 'tis a love, 
 Not a mere idle and capricious dream. 
 But a deep-rooted, growing, vestal flame 

 
 IV DEDICATION, 
 
 AVliich never dies. The love of man to God 
 Eesembles most that which a son should feel 
 Toward his being's author; and 'tis this, 
 This feeling of a perfect love and trust, 
 In which I consecrate this work to thee. 
 
 Oh ! most revered since first my life begun, 
 How can I yield to thee the full of grace 
 Thy natiu-e calleth for ? "Words cannot tell 
 What a sweet trustfulness thy love has made ! 
 
 Changes of life, my Father, thou hast seen, 
 Shadows of gloom have darkened oft thy path, 
 Troubles assailed, while all thy future life 
 Seemed barren as the past. Some, some are o'er, 
 And with fresh vigour rising from their sea. 
 Thou hast emerged, like fire-tested gold, 
 Grown brighter by the proof. Thus, 'tis to thee 
 I dedicate my thoughts, and them accept 
 As some small token of the sacred force 
 Of my undying, ever- cherished love !
 
 $\4m- 
 
 S I am about thus to intrude upon the 
 patience of the public, I feel bound to 
 make a few remarks concerning the 
 following productions. It is almost unnecessary 
 to state that they were all written at a very early 
 age, and one which might perhaps be better em- 
 ployed; yet there is an old proverb, "All work 
 and no play, etc," and in my spare time I have com- 
 piled these few pages. — Works of literature must, 
 of course, stand or fall by their own intrinsic merit ; 
 still the plea of youth, without evading censure,
 
 Vi PREFACE. 
 
 may create an interest in those who see a promise of 
 something better in the present attempts. To those 
 kind critics, therefore, I commend the fruits of my 
 labour, feeling that though they may not attain 
 to any standard of excellence, they are at least 
 harmless. It is at the request of numerous friends 
 that I have published, and though I am well aware 
 that the opinion of those who are so partial must 
 not be relied on, I venture to hope this small 
 volume may help to pass pleasantly a leisure hour. 
 
 In " Leah," while I have adopted the plot of 
 the Adelphi drama, I have studiously avoided copy- 
 ing a single word of the dialogue, it must not, 
 therefore, be looked upon as a " Versified Play." 
 
 " Eolandseck" many of my readers will recog- 
 nise, if not from my description, from recollection of 
 that beautiful spot ; in this poem I have kept closely 
 to the ever-respected legend of " Eoland and 
 Hildegunda." "Ecce Homo" is the most daring 
 flight I have attempted, whether with any success
 
 PEEFACE. Vll 
 
 others must judge. Some of the smaller poems 
 may incur the charge of egotism, and I do not deny 
 it ; still many were written during illness and 
 immediately after the death of some very dear 
 friends. TJiis may account for their tone. 
 
 With this brief summary, I make my literary 
 debut, and though not particularly sanguine, 
 naturally feel solicitous for the fate of my work. 
 
 E. W. P. 
 
 HiGHGATE, 
 
 3Iay, 1864.
 
 INDEX. 
 
 
 Page 
 
 Dedication . . . 
 
 vii 
 
 " Leah :" A Poem in six Cantos 
 
 1 
 
 ilBtnor ISocmjS. 
 
 
 Eolandseck .... 
 
 153 
 
 Epitaph on " Stonewall" Jackson 
 
 168 
 
 Life 
 
 171 
 
 Trust ...... 
 
 173 
 
 Spirit Song .... 
 
 175 
 
 The Christian Martyr ^suggested by the pic- 
 
 
 ture of Delaroche) 
 
 178 
 
 To-morrow . . . 
 
 182 
 
 To Kate . . . . 
 
 185 
 
 "Bereft" .... 
 
 186 
 
 Trasimene .... 
 
 192 
 
 The Dream .... 
 
 194 
 
 Eva ..... 
 
 201 
 
 Translation : Horace, Lib. I. Ode 38 . 
 
 213
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Page. 
 
 Spring ...... 214 
 
 Thouglits 218 
 
 Love ...... 221 
 
 Death of a Saint .... 223 
 
 " Fair passed that Face" . . .226 
 
 Translation : Virgil, ^n. II. 505. " Death of 
 
 Priam." .... 230 
 
 Translation : Horace, Lib. II. Ode 7. " To 
 
 Pompey" . . . .234 
 
 " Oh ! had we some spot" . . .237 
 
 A Day Dream ..... 240 
 A Fragment ..... 244 
 Anacreontic ..... 246 
 
 To Edith 248 
 
 " Ah ! weU-a-day" . . . .251 
 
 " Hushed were the Winds" . . .253 
 
 Ganymede ..... 255 
 
 " Ecce Homo" . . . .259 
 
 Stanzas . . . , .283 
 
 " Let the faint heart" .... 285 
 Our Lord's entry into Jerusalem . . 287
 
 LEAH. 
 
 Canto i. 
 
 ■lOAY in the heavens sank th' expiring sim, 
 The day was over, and his course was run ; 
 And Lerna's steep was purpled with the 
 haze 
 Shed through the cloudlets by the dying rays. 
 (Oh! day is lovely on the Styrian plains, 
 When golden sunset o'er the landscape reigns ! 
 "WTien the last traces of the passing day 
 Track 'cross the arc of heaven their burnished way !) 
 And the dark forest at the mountain's base 
 Eelieved the gaze : the eye might o'er it rove, 
 And mark the change from the bright heaven's face, 
 Too bright for mortals was the scene above ! — 
 
 o
 
 2 LEAU. 
 
 Beneath the waving branches of the trees, 
 
 (Silent but for the music of the breeze,) 
 
 There stood a ruiu'd hut, gi'own hoar with age 
 
 And the long storms of years : the tempest's rage 
 
 Had bared its rafters, and the ivy twined 
 
 Around the walls, showed the neglect of years. 
 
 Ah ! ages ever leave their marks behind, 
 
 To play upon our pity or our fears. 
 
 Eed fell the motey beams upon the ground. 
 
 Long fell the shadows on the grass around 
 
 That barren shed. None, but the wandering race, 
 
 Sought ever there a wretched resting place ; 
 
 The race despised of men, and angry-eyed 
 
 "With look of scorn, and overwhelming pride, 
 
 — The outcast Jews — Their once proud state is o'er ! 
 
 Their Salem is a city now no more : 
 
 Tet tho' upon the face of earth they roam, 
 
 Devoid of comfort, resting-place or home, 
 
 Doomed by the verdict of mankind to care, 
 
 The murderers' children still their guilt must bear,
 
 LEAH. <J 
 
 Dost think tliat they, the once most favoured race, 
 Forget that theirs was erst the proudest place ? 
 Dost think the daughters of those noble sires 
 Now strike no more their sorrow-burdeu'd lyres ? 
 They do. The song their captive fathers sung 
 Chaldea's palaces and plains among, 
 Still, still remains ; though Israel's hope be lost, 
 On life's rough stream their bark be rudely tost ; 
 Tliey know the past, they know their former state, 
 WhUe blest by Heaven and unharmed by fate ; 
 A^Tiile in the might of earth their sires excelled, 
 The proudest name among the proudest held ; 
 While yet the Temple stood in all its pride, 
 Before its lustre could the darkness hide ; 
 And when above Jerusalem's proud domes 
 The grace of Heaven haloed o'er their homes. 
 And age on age the days of early youth 
 Passed in the atmosphere of peace and truth. 
 All, — all is past, yet still those hearts can know 
 "What once was theirs : nor can the gladdening flow
 
 4 LEAH. 
 
 Of memory's sweets be stopped by floods of care, 
 
 Though the glad dream themselves can never share 
 
 In the reality of life ! Ne'er more 
 
 Will Israel prosper, for their day is o'er ! 
 
 Never, while Time turns round his running sand, 
 
 Can they build up the greatness of their land ; 
 
 'Tis now for ever faded ! — Human state ! 
 
 What are thy days ? At most thy gifts must wither! 
 
 And the still lingering memories of the great 
 
 Prove life and fame but loosely bound together ! 
 
 Glory and fame, ye are but empty sounds. 
 
 Bright meteors flashing thro' the sullen night, 
 
 But yet scarce crisised when the grassy mounds 
 
 And graves bear witness of your lightning flight ! 
 
 Alas for Salem ! all her hope is past ! 
 
 The curse of blood rests on her sons for ever ; 
 
 Peace lives for her no more, her doom is cast, 
 
 And Time sighs mournfully the " Never, never .'"
 
 LEAH. 5 
 
 But liark ! wHat sound strikes on tlie list'ning ear ? 
 Soft footsteps fall upon the mossy ground, 
 Singing a melody as she draws near, 
 A woman enters from the depths around. 
 "Was that a Jewess ? Could that j^outhful face 
 Have seen the storm of hatred, and disgrace ? 
 Could that bright eye, now pure as Heaven above, 
 Have looked on other scenes than those of love ? 
 Alas ! who knows what canker lurks behind 
 A calm exterior in the human mind ? 
 For though at peace the outward form appear, 
 'Tis often hard to check the rising tear. 
 But still Jier step was careless as the roe. 
 Her soul at least must be estranged from woe ; 
 Her aspect could not be so purely bright, 
 If o'er her spirit hung the fatal blight ! 
 Ah no ! as yet tho' poor her state \vithout, 
 Her soul was burdened by no cruel doubt ; 
 Her heart was blameless and untouched by sin ; 
 Fair, as the form without, the life within.
 
 6 LEAH. 
 
 Like some sweet vision, never seen but dreamed, 
 Imagination's ofl'spring, Leah seemed ! 
 Her dark eyes fixed on tlie departing rays, 
 "With purity Jeep swelling in tlaeir gaze. 
 Lustrous and melting, with tlie ardent soul 
 Rising in rapture, free from all control. 
 Dark fell her tresses o'er her bosom's snows, 
 ►Shading the features in their deep repose. 
 (Smooth as the winter drift, ere foot has trod, 
 Eose the high forehead, with the seal of God 
 Visibly graved thereon ; the stamp of mind, 
 Deep thought and candour in one mould combin'd. 
 Eed beamed the sunlight in the distant west ; 
 Loud sang the birds ere they retir'd to rest ; 
 Among the branches sighed the evening air, 
 Cooling the earth the while the day was waning 
 Duskily on: — The scene is wondrous fair 
 Wlaile light grows faint and earth is rest regaining. 
 'Tis sweet to watch the crimson spreading far 
 Over the skies, while the bright evening star
 
 LEAH. / 
 
 Is slowly rising, and the wondering sight 
 
 Gains all the beauty of the silver night ! 
 
 So Leah thouglit, and for a time she stood 
 
 Entranced in wonder, with the rosy flood 
 
 Beaming like molten gold upon her face ; 
 
 Ill-fated daughter of a fallen race ! 
 
 And yet she sighed the while she gazed upon 
 
 The scene, although it seemed to soothe her breast ; 
 
 Did not the day's life typify her own, 
 
 Devoid of pleasure and of comfort rest ? 
 
 Did not the sunlight represent her youth. 
 
 The golden age of happiness and flowers ? 
 
 Yet scarce for her, for persecution's ruth 
 
 Had dulled the brightness of the passing hours. 
 
 Was not her life, declining ever down, 
 
 Fated by heaven to sorrow and decay, 
 
 Like that sun yielding to the clouds' dark frown 
 
 To rise again when dawned another day ? 
 
 'Twas scarce a sigh of grief, for life is dear 
 
 Even to those who never knew its light ;
 
 8 LEAU. 
 
 The star of tope will oft the spirit cheer, 
 
 When all the future seems to lapse iu night. — 
 
 — She turned and entered. " Abram ! is all well 
 
 "With Deborah and her child ? Has Azrael 
 
 Held from them still ?" An aged form iiprose 
 
 As thus she spake, an old grey-headed Jew, 
 
 A form well used to buffets and to blows, 
 
 Life's bounties ever had to him been few. 
 
 His eyes were bliuded ; many a passing year 
 
 Had scattered snow on him ; few things could cheer 
 
 His weary spirit, though his fading age 
 
 "Was memoried brightly on Time's varying page. 
 
 But as he recognized her silvery voice 
 
 His face grew brighter, and he cried, " Eejoice, 
 
 Daughter ! Oh, Deborah, thy help is near, 
 
 Hope now usurps the gloomy throne of fear. 
 
 Leah, my child" — He strained his sightless eyes, 
 
 As if he fiiin would make the vision rise. 
 
 But in reality — "Hast thou succeeded 
 
 In gaining that thy burdened sister needed ?"
 
 LEAH. 9 
 
 She oped lier mantle. " Eabbi, yes," slie said, 
 " I have succeeded, if a loaf of bread 
 Be called success. Tet even tbis may be 
 A blessing to us in our poverty." 
 Tbe old man's face grew brighter as he heard : 
 " Thou art our Saviour !" was the heartfelt word 
 Brake from his lips. " She, she, who lies within 
 Will thank thee, Leah. Ah ! thy zeal must win 
 From Heaven its guerdon. Blessed may'st thou be 
 For ever ; and as thou hast done to me, 
 So be it paid again, in. thousand-fold. 
 To thee and thine : As Heaven's dews are shed 
 On Hermon's summit, from the clouds down roll'd. 
 May crowns of blessing garland round thy head !" 
 They sought the couch. Oh, but 'twas sweet to see 
 The mother's look when she received that meal : 
 Where kindness lives, there thankfulness must be. 
 Though gloomy shadows on its pathway steal. 
 There is a subtle teuderncss of love 
 Lurks in the beaming of the thankful gaze,
 
 10 LEAH. 
 
 Which seems to tell of happier scenes above, 
 
 A God-spning joy the fallen heart to raise. 
 
 Oh ! Heaven is love, and love makes earth a Heaven ! 
 
 And kindness ranks in order after this ; 
 
 Oh ! the glad sight, when from one heart is given 
 
 Love of its own, to make another's bliss. 
 
 The silent thankfulness that knows no bound, 
 
 The utterance choked down within the breast, 
 
 Is more than all the words that can be found 
 
 To tell the deepness of it when confessed. 
 
 So, Leah left them, and with timid tread 
 Passed through the doorway of the ruin'd shed. 
 The wood lay dark before her, but her mind 
 Was still with those whom she had left behind : 
 How to preserve to them the breath of life, 
 How to on-struggle in th' unequal strife. 
 Yet ever and anon her thoughts would stray 
 To other forms, and light, like that of day, 
 Burst o'er the studied gloom upon her face,
 
 LEAH. 11 
 
 Briglitened tlie eyes, aud left a pleasing trace 
 Of hope in future happiness, though now 
 The clouds hung low upon Fate's frowning brow : 
 And often she would murmur, " Eudolf mine, 
 Would thou wert here to kiss and call me thine ; 
 "Would that this heart its troubled thoughts could 
 
 cease, 
 And in thy presence feel the boon of peace. 
 Oh ! come to me, let thy dear influence steal 
 Over my heart, thou know'st not what I feel !" 
 And oft before her would she cause to rise 
 The form of him so precious in her eyes. 
 Night had no terrors for her now, her soul 
 Had far outstripped her woman-fear's control. 
 Fast through the thicket to the well known spot 
 She wended on ; her brow grew burning hot 
 As nearer she approached. Short seemed the way 
 To her, tho' 'twas not short, but love's young day 
 Eecks not of space. She reached a forest glade 
 Hemm'd round with trees, and wond'rously arrayed
 
 12 LEAn. 
 
 In Nature's vest. Soft was the mossy ground ; 
 
 Dark into distance loomed the trunks around 
 
 Of giant trees, in vast primeval state. 
 
 In this lone spot 'twas her intent to wait. 
 
 All, all was silent. — 'Neath fair Nature's bower 
 
 She waited patiently, until the hour 
 
 Should come of love, of truth, and leaning stood 
 
 Against a tree, in silent, pensive mood. 
 
 The moon was rising, quelling every fear, 
 
 " Short time remains ere Eudolf will he here."
 
 LEAH. 13 
 
 Canto B. 
 
 HE organ peals its last long swelling notes, 
 TJpon the air the solemn anthem floats, 
 Soul-stirring in its majesty of sound, 
 Waking deep sympathies, and casting round 
 Sweet influence. Who is't unmoved feels, 
 When music's grandeur o'er his spirit steals ? 
 Its grandeur, yet simplicity, for great 
 Is melody, and throned in simple state. 
 The church was old, grown grey, and dark with age. 
 Though still for years might winter's tempests rage 
 ]\Iadly around its spire, yet ne'er avail 
 To wear its strength. Within the churchyard's 
 
 pale 
 Eeposed the dust of ages ; many a stone 
 Marked the last resting place of forms gone by. 
 Apart, and silent, ever more alone,
 
 14 LEAH. 
 
 Told of the orphan's and the widow's cry. 
 
 The tombs were many, mossy grown, and covered 
 
 With the long grass ; sometimes the eye discovered 
 
 Some ancient stone with legend half eftaced, 
 
 Crusted with damp, and never to be traced 
 
 By careless gaze, half buried in the sod, 
 
 Over whose surface crowds of feet had trod, 
 
 May be for centuries, until 'twas cast 
 
 Aside, a humble relic of the past. 
 
 The villagers thronged forth. The setting sun 
 
 Brightened as if his course had just begun. 
 
 Fit type of life ! when strongest faU its rays, 
 
 Oblivion rises to obscure the blaze, 
 
 Kor hope nor comfort can the spirit raise. 
 
 But the long pencilled sunbeams flashed upon 
 
 The quaint old windows, and the turrets shone 
 
 "White in the flood. In silence came they forth 
 
 From the high service ; (for of little worth 
 
 Are those weak hearts that but in presence prove, 
 
 Nor carry out, their gratitude and love ;)
 
 LEAH. , 15 
 
 In tliat calm, peaceful silence could be traced 
 The thoughts of Heaven, not in their hearts effaced 
 As yet by Time. — Too soon to be erased ! 
 Without they waited, till the Priest should come, 
 With the last blessing to dismiss them home. 
 
 All was soft hushed, and but that Priest remained 
 With two companions, who their steps restrained. 
 Spectators of the scene ; two opposite grades 
 Of human life ; one — old, with age's shades 
 Fixed on his forehead, though his eye still beamed 
 With pride, as if his youth had never seemed 
 Lighter than now : This was the magistrate, 
 Lorrenz by name. The other was a maid, 
 One of those pets unused to storms of fate, 
 Blue-eyed, fair-haired, with one long tress that 
 
 strayed 
 Ado\vn her neck. Oh ! rare, rare Madelene, 
 In few have e'er such charms as thine been seen ! 
 Eyes that down-pouring beamed their liquid light,
 
 16 LEAH. 
 
 Love subtly lying in the orbits bright, 
 — Love deep in truth. Her tresses loosely tied 
 "With azure ribbon, could in nowise hide 
 The rounded head ; and at the lovely face, 
 Lighted with features of the purest grace, 
 Where would the heart be found which could with- 
 stand 
 To bow to virtue, and, at love's command, 
 Yield to such beauty ? Never Timon had 
 Nourished his hate, if Madeleua bade 
 Him change. And many were the hearts that 
 
 poured 
 Their love in silence, that sweet form adored, 
 And in the temple of the inmost mind 
 Her well-loved image cherished, and enshrined 
 In hopeless constancy. She too must love 
 One, one alone ; nor yet she ever strove 
 To bar her feelings, and her love's bright day 
 Was passing happily in peace away, 
 Though but begun. Not like the Jewish maid
 
 LEAH. 17 
 
 Loved, ^"itli a deeper passion ne'er to fade 
 With absence, but in fiercer zeal to burn, 
 Wlien blissful memories to tlie soul return ; 
 Whose love, deep-rooted in her ardent breast, 
 Sought out its goal, nor wished a gentle rest ; 
 'Not could endure a chill to pass the spot. 
 Where on her heart there rested, ne'er forgot, 
 His memory for ever ; time might kill 
 Her body, but in death her soul would still 
 Cling to the past. Tet though these natures 
 
 verged 
 So widely separate, in love they merged 
 Into one channel, each, to each xinknown, 
 Rivalled the other. Worldly sunshine shone 
 Brighter on Madelene, her way was clear ; 
 Not like the Jewess, born and nursed in fear 
 And deathless hate ! Old Lorrenz had a son, 
 Rudolf by name, and on this star alone 
 Their futures seemed to liajig. His was a stale 
 Strangely opposed to the decrees of fate 
 
 c
 
 18 LEAH. 
 
 In general ; by him two hearts enthralled ! 
 
 Loved by two lovely ones ; this might be called 
 
 Love midst a crowd of loves indeed : but few 
 
 Can boast two souls' affection as their due. 
 
 Due strictly meted, yet may be 'twere well 
 
 If from one source affection's accents fell. 
 
 One fountain-head from which all pleasure springs, 
 
 Aiid every aim of love 'mongst mortals brings. 
 
 Two, wearying ; one is ever full of change, 
 
 And down life's path that pair will onward range 
 
 While Time flies by, unheeding what may pass, 
 
 So it but brightens, and ne'er dims the glass 
 
 Of love and truth. Tet Eudolf could not see 
 
 Madelene's love, for the deep mystery 
 
 She clothed it in. His thoughts, his heart, his 
 
 mind 
 Lived but for Leah, and their hearts, entwined 
 In strong affection's knot, knew nought beside, 
 No anxious thoughts their depth of love could 
 
 hide !
 
 LEAH. 19 
 
 They sat tliem dowu iipou a rustic seat, 
 Wateliiug the daylight and the evening meet, 
 Talking meanwhile, on many a subject dear 
 To all their hearts. A sound of hoofs drew near 
 Borne on the breeze. A simultaneous word 
 Broke from the three, one thouglit their bosoms 
 
 stirred — 
 " 'Tis Eudolf !"— Like an arrow Madelene 
 Sprung down to meet him. Grarmented in green 
 Was the rough path, with ferns and larches stooping 
 Gracefully o'er, and with the evening drooping, 
 Declining off to rest. And at the base 
 There stood the well-known form, with travel's trace 
 Fi'esh on his person. O'er his noble brow 
 Spread the brown curls in wavy masses, low 
 Falling adown his cheeks, sunburnt, and browned 
 By exercise, while Health with blessings crowned 
 The starting life. — Just such a face we see 
 In treasured sculptures of the deity 
 Of manly beauty. Firm his step and free.
 
 20 LEAH. 
 
 As ever ttat of tlie wild hart in sj^ring, 
 When morning dawns and dew-gemmed copses ring. 
 She ran to meet him. " Ah ! my Madelene, 
 The first home face that I for days have seen : 
 How art thou, sister ? Days an age appear 
 When absence shades, and only hope can cheer 
 Onward their course. 'Tis but six days since here 
 I said ' Parewell,' and yet, it seems a year !" 
 He smiled and kissed her. Her blue eyes were wet, 
 The bright love tears were shining in them yet ; 
 Not tears of grief, but of sweet hope, and pleasure, 
 And youthful love, life's truest, rarest, treasure. 
 His too were bright, but 'twas a different soiirce 
 Yielded his joy. His home-affection's force 
 Struck on his heart. Slowly, and side-by-side. 
 They climbed the pathway by the streamlet's tide. 
 And hearty was the welcome. Absence proves 
 The eager whetstone to all thorough loves ! 
 Till the damp shades of evening 'gan to pass 
 In weirdly wavelets on the dewy grass,
 
 LEAH. 21 
 
 The soft night air began to whisper still, 
 And evening's breeze the quiet earth to chill, 
 And high in heaven calmty moved, among 
 The bright-attendant beauties of her throng, 
 The silver moon, and cast a purer light. 
 Than that which cheers the day, to greet the 
 
 night. 
 They sat there talking, nor unmoved arose 
 To leave the twilight, and to seek repose. 
 " Art thou not coming, Eudolf ?" 
 
 " Not awhile ; 
 I fain would stay and watch the heaven's smile. 
 'Tis such a moonlight as is rarely seen, 
 So fair and sweet. Good night, my Madelene." 
 There is some strange and undefined power 
 Steals on us in the silent moonlit hour : 
 Never such thoughts flit 'cross the human brain, 
 As when the eye beholds the silver train 
 Rising in heaven, as the daylight wanes, 
 And earth, devoid of light, save theirs, remains. —
 
 22 LEAH. 
 
 There is a wonder working influence, 
 That seems to lull to rest each burdened sense ; 
 To some on earth that time is Heaven's curse, 
 Then, rather than in day-time, crimes seem worse ; 
 That quiet and unflick'ring lamp on high 
 Seems an e'er-present and omniscient eye 
 To mark their sins. Though bright day's sun- 
 beams fall, 
 The hour of moonlight rules above them all ; 
 Tor solitude is strong, and with it brings 
 A wholesome longing after higher things ; 
 Thoughts above earthly musings o'er us steal, 
 And teach the soul to live, to love, to feel, 
 Feel for the future, finer, truer aims 
 Than those we seek, when earth the bosom claims ! 
 
 And Eudolf left the house, and strode along 
 Humming the while the burden of a song, 
 A favourite. — Below, the forest stood. 
 The topmost branches silvered with the flood
 
 LEAH. 23 
 
 Of pouring rays ; tlie depths were dark as niglit, 
 LoomiBg out blacker for the whitening light 
 Which played upon the tree-tops. Eudolf stayed 
 His step upon the hill. " Night is arrayed," 
 He murmured to himself, " in beauteous sheen ; 
 AVliat art could ever hope to match this scene 
 Of Nature's handiwork ?" and for a time 
 He stood there rapt, until the distant chime 
 Bang from the village ; t'wards the wood he turned, 
 A strange light in his eyes there sudden burned. 
 He reached the forest and in quickly went. 
 Cared not for darkness in his passion's bent ; 
 So he but had the guerdon of her love, 
 Cared not for stars, nor wished a moon above ; 
 Her eyes served for his stars, he wished no more. 
 If she but loved him and all doubts were o'er ; 
 She was his light ; to stand those boughs beneath, 
 And hear the whispers of her bated breath, 
 Was joy too great for utterance ! — Tlie trees 
 Weregemm'd with dewdrops,andthe eveniug breeze
 
 24 LEAH. 
 
 Wafted tliem down upon tis face, like rain 
 Eefresliing the dry earth. The dim-heard strain 
 Of summer music, on the bahny air 
 Rose sweetly soft, like childhood's early prayer 
 Wakes echoes in the heart. The journey seemed 
 Short (though 'twas long) until the moonlight 
 
 gleamed 
 Through the tall trees, he reached the well-known 
 
 glade. 
 And folded in one long embrace the maid ! 
 
 " Ah ! Leah, Leah, do I now behold 
 Thy darling face ? Can it be true I hold 
 Thy gentle form clasped in my longing arms, 
 And see once more the star that bids me live, 
 Gaze fondly on the beauty of thy charms, 
 And all my feelings in that love-look give ? 
 Leah, my own, lift up thy welcome face, 
 Let me but gaze on thee, and gaze again. 
 Let thy dear presence from my bosom chase
 
 LEAH. 25 
 
 All that of auglit save thee dotli there remaiu." 
 
 She parted back her long dishevelled hair 
 
 And clung to him ; he stooped to raise her head. 
 
 She gazed up at him, and no douht was there, — 
 
 In EudolTs arms, what though she lay there dead ! 
 
 " Oh Rudolf!" was the only word she spoke, 
 
 Tet that one word within his bosom woke 
 
 A stronger spur to urge his spirit on 
 
 T' wards honour's barrier ; his soul was won 
 
 By hers ; two bodies, but the souls were one. 
 
 One long- long look, — he strained her to his breast 
 
 In a sweet kiss. — How pure with all its zest 
 
 Is a first kiss of love ! before the tide 
 
 Of sorrow's torrents o'er the bosom glide. 
 
 I may not seek to tell that hour of love ; 
 'Twas perfect happiness, as that above. 
 The first outpourijig of their ardent youth. 
 By heaven nursed, and fed by streams of truth, 
 Before the weight of falsehood on them lay
 
 26 
 
 LEAH. 
 
 To darken life and hasten joy away ! 
 Before tlie curtain of the world could rise, 
 And show its baseness to those tender eyes ! 
 Though reared in sorrow, never had she seen 
 The gulf of dark despair which lies between 
 The happiness of youth and cares of age, 
 When Time has turned for aye his brightest page. 
 
 Long stood they there, beneath the beech's shade, 
 Joy at their meeting still their steps delayed : 
 They could not tear themselves apart, their dream 
 Was in its earliest stage, the golden gleam 
 Of hope's bright sunshine, tinged with fairest hue 
 Their minds' delight, and all the time that passed 
 Seemed but too short, for love is sweet to view, 
 And love, — love reigned, too happy long to last. 
 He took her to him. " Leah, Leah mine, 
 Thou know'st I love, and that I would resign 
 All that I have of wealth for thy sweet sake. 
 All ties of love, save thine alone, would break.
 
 LEAH, 
 
 27 
 
 Cast all to eartli, and willingly lay down 
 My future hopes of peace, and wear the crowTi 
 Of poverty with thee, though 'tis a task, 
 Heaven grant, uncalled for yet. To-night I ask 
 My father's blessing on the beauteous bride 
 That thou shalt be when at thy EudoK's side. 
 I ask his blessing, but if he refuse 
 To grant it to me, ere the kindly dews 
 Of four successive nights have kissed the world, 
 My filial duty to the winds is hurl'd ; 
 Leaving behind dark persecution's blight, 
 We'll seek those lands whose faith is sunn'd in 
 
 light, 
 Not, by the superstitions of a creed, 
 Which scouts all others, darkened, which may lead 
 To whole extinction of itself. Ah ! no, 
 Heaven grants some blessings to its sons below. 
 We have the power, and have we not the will, 
 To live together in those blessings still ? 
 My Leah, thou wdt come, thou wilt not stay
 
 28 
 
 LEAH. 
 
 Thy steps to follow mine ? Say, darling, say !" 
 Gazing upon her with an anxious eye, 
 Yet doubting not, he waited her reply. 
 But Leah's face was troublous, and her soul 
 "Was racked by fears, as when some dreaded shoal, 
 Or rock, out-bristles from the billowy sea, 
 Filling a frail boat's crew with agony 
 Half-rapt in doubt. So in a strange amaze 
 She fixed on Rudolf a long earnest gaze. 
 " Ah me," she said, " can it be right that I 
 Should leave my brethren in their poverty ? 
 Because my heart has nursed a deeper love, 
 Should that all pity from my breast remove ? 
 Heaven whispers to me now ' Love is a gem 
 Brighter than any monarch's diadem;' 
 But even love may lose the gentle force 
 "Winch is its surest safe-guard, and remorse 
 "Woidd weigh me down, if for a transient flame 
 I left my people to their doole and shame. 
 Pity me. Heaven ! I have ever been
 
 LEAH. 29 
 
 Their only guardian tliro' eacli troublous scene, 
 
 None but myself batli searched to bring them food, 
 
 (Although to bind me, are no ties of blood), 
 
 None but myself vdU ever seek to bring 
 
 To them the comfort in their sorrowing, 
 
 They can but languish in their misery, 
 
 Briefly, and bitterly, before they die." 
 
 But as she spoke she saw the anger rise, 
 
 Flushing his cheek and brightening his eyes. 
 
 " And speak' st thou thus ? Thou'lt not leave them 
 
 for me, 
 AYho would lay down all, everything for thee ; 
 Thou ne'er hast loved me !" 
 
 " Ah ! what may I do ? 
 Each cloud seems darker than the last in hue ! 
 Whate'er I do, my heart's tense chords must break 
 For theirs, my brethren, or for his dear sake ! 
 ' Cursed be he that leads the blind aside ! ' 
 Yet I desert them, blind and sick beside ; 
 I thought that Love Avas all in all, yet still
 
 30 LEAH. 
 
 Love cannot of itself sweet peace instil 
 To my sad, doubting, heart. Eudolf, forljear 
 Those angry accents, for I cannot bear 
 That tliou shouldst turn against me !" 
 
 " Thou wilt come ? 
 And seek with me in other lands a home ; 
 Say that thou wilt." 
 
 " Eand Heaven, hear my prayer ! 
 I cannot, cannot leave him, let tlieir share 
 Of trouble fall on me, hear and forgive ! 
 "With deadened heart, where is the boon to live ? 
 I cannot leave thy side, e'en did I choose, 
 'Tis wrong I know, still can I not refuse. 
 Yet," — and her voice grew lower as she spoke, 
 Her towering form a passing tremor shook, 
 " Rudolf, beware ! I love thee, love thee well. 
 Far more than thou canst ever dream or tell 
 In thy heart's visions, and I say, Beware ! 
 Thou know'st my race, thou knowest that I bear 
 The nature of my sires within my breast,
 
 LEAH. 31 
 
 An endless nature, never seeking rest ; 
 Ah, rouse it not, that heart, now all thine own, 
 If it thou would' st abandon or disown, 
 Would change its love to hate ! — Oh, pledge to me 
 Thy Christian honoiu* as a surety, 
 Never to leave the hapless girl to mourn, 
 Cursing the day and hour when she was born. 
 I doubt thee not, for doubt lives not in love, 
 It means but hate, and He who lives above 
 Fosters not mingled passion. For thy sake 
 I would keep silence, but, Eudolf, forsake 
 Me never, never /" 
 
 " Calm thy anxious mind, 
 Think not in love that I am left behind : 
 If I should lose you, lose, ill-omened w^ord ! 
 I dare not speak of loss ! 'twere better heard 
 As death in soul and heart. What I have spoken 
 To thee in life, ne'er can or shall be broken : 
 Ne'er dread my falseness or my perjury, 
 For I must perish while forsaking thee !"
 
 32 LEAH. 
 
 Her eyes were tearful, yet withal she smiled ; 
 " What, weeping still ? Thou must not be beguiled 
 To doubt me, Leah. Now, farewell !" How soon 
 Comes the remorseless hour which separates 
 Hopes radiant with Life's sunny summer noon, 
 "While yet in vain, unknown, dark sorrow waits. 
 They clasped each other in a long embrace. 
 Heart pressed to heart, face gazing upon face ! 
 How sweet that moment, yet, how quickly past ! 
 Delirious in love while it did last, 
 Seemed a sweet Paradise, with all its bliss, 
 The fervid ardour of that mutual kiss ! 
 A moment passed, and he she loved had gone. 
 In that dark forest glade she stood, alone ! 
 Ah ! ever thus do pleasures yield to woes, 
 The sharpest thorn lurks 'neath the fairest rose ; 
 The fruits which grow on Zoar's barren waste 
 Please but the eve and mther in the taste : 
 Eternity of pleasure, free from care, 
 Exists in Heaven, and only, only there !
 
 LEAH. 33 
 
 She started timidly. " Is lie not here ? 
 Hush, fluttering heart, what ill hast thou to fear ? 
 Adieu, my Eudolf ; cease to love thee ? Never ! 
 In life, in death, I'm thiue, all thine for ever !"
 
 34 LEAH. 
 
 Canto Mh 
 
 HE night fast waned, and wrapped in 
 quiet sleep 
 The villagers were resting : silence deep 
 Eeigued o'er the farms. A distant conrent bell 
 Far borne on stillness over hill and dell, 
 Chiming the midnight, was the only sound 
 (And that but faint) which broke the calm around. 
 In the sweet happiness of rest enclosed, 
 The wearied heads upon the couch reposed ; 
 Banished all thoughts of evil through the day, 
 And all dull shades of sadness chased away. 
 And darkness closed upon the Styrian plains, 
 The myriad stars were shining in the sky : 
 Ah ! night brings rest, and peace its power regains
 
 LEAH. 35 
 
 "WTien balmy sleep lulls off eaeli aching eye. 
 Yes, night was beauteous, when the shadows spread 
 Their veil but as a background to the scene; 
 The mountain sides were silent as the dead, 
 And quiet reigned where lately toil had been. 
 When all the laud grew hushed by slow degrees. 
 The birds and nature's voice, alike, were still, 
 And aU was silent, save the whispering breeze, 
 Or the soft plashing of the mountain rill. 
 And o'er the farm of Lorrenz the dark wing 
 Of night hung low : — the air had ceased to ring 
 With the young hum of voices, and the street 
 Was silent from the lately frequent feet — 
 A quiet homestead, with its weU-thatched roof. 
 Seeming to bid all trouble keep aloof: 
 Warm, snugly built, and seeming as 'twould say, 
 " Come, Winter, roar your loudest, many a day 
 I've housed the wanderer from your biting cold. 
 When your rude blasts about my windows roll'd 
 Showers of hurtling sleet. Come, come, old friend.
 
 36 LEAH. 
 
 Tour utmost energies against me bend, 
 Try if 'twill shake my rafters !" Many a year 
 That farm had stood, until it had grown dear, 
 Linked wdth the memory of days gone by. 
 To the rude masses of the peasantry. 
 When life declines, and faded is its morn, 
 Love we not still the place where we were born ? 
 Though separate from it, still we ne'er forgot 
 The treasured features of the well-known spot ; 
 In dreams, the visions of our youth again 
 Pass dimly mirror'd o'er the sleeping brain, 
 Like some sweet lyre, tuned to ancient lays, 
 Throb in the heart the chords of other days ; 
 Ah ! what earned treasure would we freely give. 
 In youth and carelessness again to live ! 
 
 Night waned, and soon emerging from the wood, 
 Upon the silent threshold Eudolf stood. 
 Awhile he hesitated ; on the die 
 His future life, his being seemed to He.
 
 lEAH. 37 
 
 And yet why did lie fear ? Surely 'twas riglit 
 That man should love, where man his vows did 
 
 plight : 
 Love is of heaven, it springeth not of earth, 
 Our world is far too sinful for ita birth 
 When 'tis a virtue, and had his not thriven 
 The stronger for its purity, not riven 
 Asunder by the power that made it spring, 
 Uplifting love on fancy's buoyant wing ? 
 
 He entered quietly and crossed the hall, 
 
 But stood awhile before a close shut door. 
 
 And looked back. "Weirdly did the moonbeams 
 
 faU 
 Upon the surface of the shining floor. 
 " The time has come at last. It waxes late, 
 The hour approaching will decide our fate ; 
 My heart misgives me, and a dark, dark cloud 
 Is slowly clasping life as with a shroud." 
 And then, as one who wanders in his sleep
 
 38 LEAH. 
 
 He turned and entered. Oli ! strange feelings 
 
 creep 
 Over the stoutest of us when Ave know 
 The crisis comes, of happiness or Avoe, 
 The turning point of life, perhaps for care, 
 Ending at last in that black gulf, — despair ! 
 Old Lorreuz niark'd the change. " Eudolf, my 
 
 son, 
 AVhat ails thee ? tell me, for I am the one 
 By right should know thy thoughts." — But then he 
 
 gazed 
 On his hot-pleading son, speechless, amazed. 
 As he proceeded with his tale of love — 
 Told how his joy on earth, and e'en above, 
 "Was centred in another ; with one soul 
 They lived, they loved, no power could control 
 The spirit's yearning, and no force could sever 
 The love of hearts which bideth on for ever. 
 Told how he lived for her, and her alone, 
 How but her image filled his bosom's throne :
 
 LEAH. 39 
 
 Told of the vows tliat never must be broken, 
 The burning accents, dearer heard than spoken ; 
 The restless! longing of the anxious heart, 
 To bid its troubles and its gloom depart ; 
 How that his love for her alone remained, 
 Ne'er to be ended or to be restrained. 
 His father looked at him, and deadly white 
 Grew the old face, in nameless, fearful dread : 
 He lost all consciousness ; his voice, his sight 
 Faded beneath the cloud that o'er them sped. 
 Still Eudolf, lost in his own love, but felt 
 That fate with him had coldly, hardly, dealt, 
 Until a long, low cry escaped the lips 
 Of the old man ; he sank upon the floor, 
 (As dims the sun behind the moon's eclipse,) 
 One cry escaped — but Eudolf's tale was o'er. 
 The silver head lay death-like at his feet, 
 Bowed by the sudden tidings. — Who can meet. 
 Without a pang, the tale which ruins hopes 
 Cherished for years ? who is't with misery copes ?
 
 40 
 
 LEAH. 
 
 "Wrecked were the dreams Lorrenz liad fondly 
 
 nourished, 
 Blighted in bud before the blossom flourished ! 
 He e'er had longed that he might live to see 
 Eudolf and Madelene in unity, 
 As well of body as of soul. Yet this, 
 This woman was to dash the cup of bliss 
 (But hardly tasted) from the rightful hand, 
 As her own due, and at her harsh command 
 His son must be her instrument ! 'Tis hard ! 
 Yet ever thus life is from bliss debarred. 
 Pew, few there are, to whom, beneath the roses 
 Pain never lurks, or every scene discloses 
 A panorama than the one before 
 Brighter far brighter, to life's utmost shore 
 Widely extending : No, no, 'tis in Heaven 
 Such never-failing springs of joy are given ; 
 Earth knows them not ! — The purple grape is 
 
 pressed. 
 With costliest viands may the board be dressed.
 
 LEAH. 41 
 
 Yet, how can we, the creatures of an hour, 
 Grasp fuUj all Eate round us deigns to shower ! 
 When prizes seem the nearest, then beware, 
 They may be farthest from oiu" touch, and ere 
 We can o'ertake them, years have flitted fast. 
 What present was, is now the mournful past ! 
 
 He rushed to raise his father ; in his arms 
 He bore him up, his breast with dire alarms 
 Convulsive shook. " Oh ! God, can he be dead ? 
 Father, look up ! Heav'ns ! can his soul have sped 
 With grief at me ? Have I this trouble brought ?" 
 His heart beat wildly at the very thought ! 
 " Ho, Madelena, Friedrich, hasten here, 
 My Father dies !" A chilHng, numbing fear 
 Crept o'er his bosom, and again he bowed 
 Over his sire. Again he cried aloud, 
 " Help, hither, help." Pale was the old man's cheek. 
 Parted the lips, as though about to speak, 
 Corpse-like the form, and the wild-staring eye
 
 42 LEAH. 
 
 Fixed, terror-like, on utter vacancy. 
 
 So suddenly he fell, the feeble stream 
 
 Of life slow wandered o'er the well-worn way. 
 
 This awful moment was a life-long dream, 
 
 To live to Eudolf till his dying day ! 
 
 The household flocked in, terrified ; they saw 
 
 The old man lying, senseless, on the floor, 
 
 As if down-smitten by some sudden blow ; 
 
 And o'er him, pale with pain, and bending low, 
 
 Eudolf his son. With one short gasping cry 
 
 Knelt Madelena at his side ; her eye 
 
 Looked wildly round, and caught as at a glance 
 
 All the deep secret of that death-like trance. 
 
 " Kind God, Rudolf, what is it ails thy sire ? 
 
 Lower thy shoulder, raise the body higher ! 
 
 Quick, servants, bear him ! Life is nearly gone, 
 
 Use utmost haste, convey him to his room ! 
 
 All we can do, let it be quickly done. 
 
 Lest this deep swound but herald forth the tomb. 
 
 Hark ! heard you not that deep, half stifled, moan,
 
 LEAH. 43 
 
 Delay may prove it liis last dying groan !" 
 Silent they raised liim, lieaA-y fell his head, 
 Slowly they bore him, corpse-like, to his bed ; 
 The door closed on them, waned away the sound 
 Of heavy footsteps on the planks around : 
 Still Eudolf stood there, silent and alone, 
 Passive his face, as chiselled out of stone ; 
 He saw them bear that senseless form away, 
 He saw how stiff and leaden-like it lay. 
 He heard their footsteps die away, he heard 
 Poor Madelena's last despairing word ; 
 Yet could not move, his heart was bowed to earth, 
 Weighed down with care, he felt no more could 
 
 mirth 
 Lie in his footsteps, never more could lend 
 A smiling welcome to him, never send 
 Comfort to heal his sorrow, or to make 
 A stilling comfort to the source of woe ; 
 His heart throbbed high as if about to break. 
 His lip but quivered and no tear could flow.
 
 44 LEAH. 
 
 Oh ! wlien on those our hearts are bound to love 
 
 Affliction falls, then is the time to prove 
 
 The deepness of affection ; he who knows, 
 
 But cannot feel, their sorrows and their woes, 
 
 Cannot ia spirit echo back each groan, 
 
 Harbour each pang, as if it were his own. 
 
 He loves them not ; while bright the path appears 
 
 Love's track seems easy too, but when with tears 
 
 The flower is watered, then's the hour which tries 
 
 The perfect depth of all our sympathies. 
 
 The sterling value of the sacrifice 
 
 We would make for them. "When all joys are 
 
 hurl'd 
 Par from our homes, and but the cruel world 
 Opens upon us, then love's power grows faint 
 Unless 'tis born of truth, each care's restraint 
 Adds a fresh item to the soul's complaint. 
 
 But round the sick man's bed there ever hovered 
 An angel, who with guardian pinions covered
 
 LEAH. 45 
 
 Him from all tact of harm ; she whom he loved, 
 His Madelena, like a daughter proved, 
 So constant was her watchfulness, and he, 
 Who wrought all this of harm unknowingly. 
 Though crushed with doubt was the poor burdened 
 
 mind, 
 In love, in duty, was not left behind. 
 
 For days he lay 'twixt life and death suspended, 
 Upon an hour's turn his fate depended ; 
 But oh, it was a harrowing sight to view 
 The stricken form, the face's ghastly hue ! 
 The fear that haunted every passing breath. 
 Lest that should prove forerunner of his death ! 
 And when, at last, the watchers joyed to see 
 The welcome end of their anxiety. 
 What tears of happiness were silent wept, 
 When first released from pain, at rest, he slept ! 
 '' Where is my son," he asked, when first he came 
 Beyond death's reach, and at the mentioned name
 
 46 LEAH. 
 
 Rudolf arose, from where, since tliat sad day, 
 He e'er himself had stationed, there to stay 
 Till Death relieved his father's suifering. 
 Or Health returned with blessing-bearing wing. 
 Nor would he leave his father since that hour. 
 But staid beside the bed, as if fear's power 
 Held whole dominion over him. His face 
 "Was worn and pale, dull shades began to chase 
 That smile which aye was loved, and leave instead 
 A pond' reus weight to burden down his head ; 
 And those who saw the look hope could not quell, 
 Sighed as they murmured, " Yes, he loved him 
 weU !" 
 
 "WTien Lorrenz saw his son, and marked how sad 
 He seemed now, wondered what ailed the lad. 
 But then outflashed the memory of that tale 
 "Which he had heard ; and oh ! could nought assail 
 His son's rash promise ? Would that slie had 
 perished,
 
 LEAH. 47 
 
 Before she wrecked what lie most fondly cherished ! 
 And yet, though bitter was the cup to drink, 
 Perhaps 'twas better that his hopes should sink 
 Than Eudolf's ; though 'twas hard, 'twas very hard 
 His life-long dream should from him be debarred ! 
 — They tried to silence him ; he would not hear 
 Their whispered counsels and their loving fear, 
 Or heeded not, ** Eudolf, my son," he said : 
 " I do forgive thee, though would I were dead ! 
 I blame thee not, since Heaven wills it so, 
 But never deed had such a troop of woe 
 To follow it ! Hearkea ! Thou'rt on the brink 
 Of a deep abyss ; pause or thou must sink 
 Beneath its surface." Eudolf turned away, 
 He could not, dared not, listen to such speech ; 
 " Father ! ah, speak not so ; there's but one way 
 Could suit me now, and 'tis beyond my reach !" 
 " Thou lov'st her, Eudolf, weU !" 
 
 " I do, I do ! 
 My heart would break if e'er we bade adieu,
 
 48 LEAH. 
 
 No more, no more to meet in love again ; 
 
 Sliut from each other by tlie strongest chain 
 
 That e'er could sever, or could draw apart 
 
 The fond, fond wishes of a mutual love. 
 
 As from the frost-bound earth the flowrets start, 
 
 They only sleep till summer can remove 
 
 The hardened covering which o'er them lies. 
 
 And bid them bud their beauties and arise — 
 
 So never can the biting frost of years 
 
 Destroy a true affection's fadeless root, 
 
 Held back, not smothered, soon real love appears, 
 
 "With brightest blossoms, and with fairest fruit. 
 
 I know her nature and my own ; I know 
 
 Her strength of character, which midst the woe. 
 
 The ocean woe of poverty, could stand 
 
 Unharmed by sin, nor bowed to crime's command." 
 
 '• Hush, Eudolf, hush ! I see thou lov'st her well, 
 
 But ah ! I dread her love is not the same ; 
 
 Sudden affection oft is infidel, 
 
 Blazes a moment, and then fades the flame.
 
 LEAH. 49 
 
 She does not love thee as thou shouldst be loved, 
 She loves thee never as thou lovest her ; 
 The shallow flick' ring ne'er has yet been proved, 
 Prove it to me" — 
 
 " — Father, no envious slur 
 Asperse her with ; the very depths of shame 
 May close o'er mine, but never o'er her name ! 
 She is as loving as she seems, and true 
 Beyond the last grand boundary of truth : 
 Deceit e'er mantles in a gloomy hue, 
 Easily pierced, the lies which in our youth 
 We utter. Ah ! if ever thou hadst seen 
 Her fair young face, in all its love serene. 
 Thou wouldst not, covddst not doubt her ! Name 
 
 thy test, 
 I yield with pride unto thy poor request!" 
 " The proof is this, my son. The Jewish race, 
 Once throned so high, tho' fallen from their place, 
 Have lost with rank, their hearts ; — they have 
 
 grown cold,
 
 50 LEAH. 
 
 Callous, by reason of the waves that rolled 
 So hardly o'er them. — Stay thy passion yet, 
 List to my words, and never them forget. 
 Oh ! think not E-udolf, that she loves as I 
 Love thee, my son, her race would e'er belie 
 Such thought as that. Perchance some passing flame 
 Has lent a radiance to her hollow heart, 
 Raising the head from depths of sorrow's shame. 
 Deeper to sink when the false hopes depart : 
 Try her with gold ; if she accept the pelf, 
 'Tis proof she loves thy money, — not thyself, 
 I feel 'tis true, my inmost heart misgives 
 The shade of avarice within her lives ; 
 I doubt her, Eudolf, doubt her for thy sake ; 
 Better it were thy ardent heart should break 
 In baring all the truth, than leave behind 
 Some cloud to shade the sunshine of the mind." — 
 — " Father, no more ! I can endure no longer, 
 AVith all thy warnings, fate grows stronger, 
 stronger." —
 
 LEAH. 51 
 
 " If she were proved false to tliee, wouldst tliou cast 
 
 Her off?" 
 
 " Ay, if that moment were my last : 
 It ne'er will come ; those lips too young to grieve 
 O'er hidden sorrow, never could deceive, 
 Whilst even smiling ! Father, never more 
 Looks life for me as life has looked before ; 
 Joy is too happy, and too sweet, to stay, 
 'Tis scarcely found, when it must fade away !" 
 Old Lorrenz spoke : " Thou dost accept the test ?" 
 " I do in hope ; and when her love confessed 
 Stands clear as heaven before the storm clouds 
 
 lower" — 
 " Then, then, my son, within that very hour 
 Thou hast my blessing on thy Jewish bride. 
 Nor even custom shall you twain divide." 
 With sudden joy sprang Rudolf to his feet, 
 With eager tones the welcome sound to greet. 
 Heaved high his breast, as though the current 
 
 strong
 
 52 LEAH, 
 
 Of love fast coursing all his veins among, 
 Danced in its glee to find his hoj^es so near 
 To be fulfilled, nor any shade of fear 
 Darkened fond hope, nor dashed its pride from 
 
 where 
 It sat enshrined, nor any thoughts of care 
 Dulled his delight. Breathless ^dth joy he turned. 
 And all his nature with emotion burned. 
 Old Lorrenz smiled upon his son's wild glee. 
 Though numbed his heart was by anxiety. 
 *' Stay yet, my son, the test is not applied ; 
 'TIS time to boast when once it has been tried 
 And proved but useless. Bid thy longing stay 
 All fond desires, and wait a crovraing day ^ 
 To all its dreams, however wide their scope ; 
 Hope not too much, lest truth fulfil not hope !" 
 
 The entry rang with sounds of coming tread ; 
 " Is't Madelene?" old Lorrenz quickly said; 
 Add at the mention of her name he grew
 
 LEAH. 53 
 
 Brighter, liis face's pale and weakly hue 
 Heightened in colour. 'T\yas with all the same, 
 The oldest, dullest, smiled to hear her name. 
 Oh ! she was well-beloved indeed by all : 
 Like ivy twines around the lichened wall. 
 So round all hearts had Madelena thrown 
 Her silken fetters ; and they were her own ; 
 The oldest father and the youngest lad 
 Looked for her face, and seeing it were glad. 
 This is a love above all common loves : 
 General affection e'er the spirit proves 
 "Worthy its homage, and fair Madelene 
 Was of each village heart the pride and queen ! 
 
 They entered, two new comers, and the door 
 "Was quickly closed. The maiden was before, 
 But following in her track behind, there came 
 One of a crafty look, and with a frame 
 Strangely proportioned, one whose lowering brows 
 Coldly repelled. 'Tis rare that mortal shows
 
 54 LEAH. 
 
 Such cunning A'illaiuy, as seemed to lie 
 Within the twinkle of his quick black eye. 
 'Twas the schoolmaster Bertolf. lie had been 
 (Tales went) in many a foreign clime ; had seen 
 (Perhaps partaken in) full many a deed 
 Of murder, piracy, rapine and greed. 
 But now for fifteen years he here had stayed, 
 His reformation had not been delayed. 
 
 Though calm the face, and fair the form without, 
 
 Tlie heart oft feels a shrinking dread and doubt 
 
 Of something nameless, that the spell-bound gaze 
 
 Sees not, yet seems to see ; w^e cannot raise 
 
 The burden of suspicion from the heart, 
 
 We cannot bid the chilling fears depart ; 
 
 We know the man who is to work us ill, 
 
 We disregard it, but we dread him still. 
 
 There is an awful something in his look 
 
 Or mien, that shows, as in a plain- writ book, 
 
 All that he fain would hide or smother down
 
 LEAH. 55 
 
 Beneatli tlie semblance of a smile or frown ; 
 
 We know, we see the heart that lies within, 
 
 In every deed we trace the hidden sin. 
 
 The man of guilt and crime can thus be known, 
 
 He understands all minds, except his own ! 
 
 He may outstrip the slur upon his fame, 
 
 Yet in our hearts we all can see his shame. 
 
 We laugh at prejudice and say, " Did he 
 
 Make his own face ? It is but vanity 
 
 To turn against a fellow man, because 
 
 His features come not under beauty's laws." 
 
 Yet, prejudice not wholly. Love we know 
 
 Springs at first sight, afiection cannot grow 
 
 By reason of long-sufferance, and thus 
 
 Hate also springs. AVhen first there comes to us 
 
 A seeming warning, then we should beware, 
 
 Our life-time's bane and pestilence stands where 
 
 The spirit's warning points, and we should strive 
 
 Against his wiles, if we in peace would live.
 
 56 LEAH, 
 
 They talked in pairs; Eudolf and Madelene, 
 Bertolf and Lorreuz, and these two between 
 The speech was urgent, till the old man broke 
 The almost silence, and to Eudolf spoke : 
 " Bertolf, my son, will seek this maid to-night ; 
 ('Tis better past,) thou, if it seemeth right, 
 Must now direct him, for thou know'st the way 
 To where these infidels at present stay. 
 Is't not so, Bertolf?" And he turned his head ; 
 The other bowed, and to the young man said — 
 " Tell me the way, and I will hasten now, 
 And e'en return before the moon is low." 
 But Eudolf rose, and with a feverish look 
 Gazed on his face ; his trembling bosom shook 
 "With love and hope. " 'Tis the old ruined hut : 
 Thou know'st the way ; but, Bertolf, do not shut 
 Thy heart against these fellow-men of thine. 
 Do not be harsh to her who will be mine : 
 Trust not thine own speed when she spurns the 
 gold.
 
 LEAH. 57 
 
 Send some fleet messenger, who can unfold 
 
 The tidings of refusal sooner, and 
 
 Soften the harshness of my sire's command." 
 
 But when without the threshold Bertolf stood, 
 
 A secret teiTor seemed to chill his blood : 
 
 Still suddenly some fancy seemed to rise 
 
 Within his mind, and in his deep-set eyes 
 
 There burned a lurid light, and aU the face 
 
 Seemed darkened by fell purposes, no trace 
 
 Of mercy brightened it. " Heav'n, art thou blind 
 
 To favour thus the hater of his kind, 
 
 The poor Apostate Jew ! This money fans 
 
 The glowing embers of my deep-laid 2:)lans. 
 
 What ! have I toiled for twenty years that these 
 
 Accursed Jews should rob me of mine ease ? 
 
 It shall not b e, or I have borne in vain 
 
 Tlie toil of years to win a home again. 
 
 Now, God of Jacob — Ah ! recall the name 
 
 That shows my origin, my former shame.
 
 58 LEAH. 
 
 Grod of us Claristians, help me now to bend 
 
 These Jews beneath the yoke, lest I descend 
 
 By their means to their level." With this prayer 
 
 Upon his impious lips he turned to share 
 
 The darkness of the groves. And now he ran 
 
 From farm to farm, and many a sturdy man 
 
 Came at his bidding, for 'twas Styrian creed 
 
 That Jewish woe by Heaven had been decreed ; 
 
 So came they quickly, and most hearts could feel 
 
 Some slight experience of fanatic zeal ; 
 
 And blame them not, for where the priests hold 
 
 sway, 
 The peasants dream that darkness is noon-day ; 
 Fixed in belief, those laws they grant alone 
 Made by the priests, and for whose good ? their 
 
 own. 
 So Styria's peasants thought 'twas good and right 
 To slay the Jews, earth's pestilence and blight ; 
 They knew no better, 'twas a holy cause. 
 They thought, and following their Maker's laws.
 
 LEAH. 
 
 59 
 
 Poor fools ! as though 'twould please a G-od of grace, 
 That one should slay the fellows of his race ! 
 Well known the path was, and they tracked their 
 
 way 
 In the dark gloom, as though 'twere brightest day, 
 Through the tall nodding groves of verdant trees, 
 By the closed flowers, where the wearied bees 
 Enhived lay sleeping, where the harebells blue 
 Dotted the earth with spots of freshest hue ; 
 Until they saw the silver moonbeams darting 
 IJpon the ruined rafters, while departing 
 On either side ranged the dense wood, imparting 
 A back ground, grand and gloomy. Far away 
 Those leafy giants stretched ; ne'er e'en in day 
 Did sunshine creep to light the deep-drawn shade 
 Of woody solitude ; now o'er them played 
 The calmer splendoiu' of the myriad stars 
 Studding the deep blue sky, the only bars 
 Between our earth and hcav'n. A star's a gem, 
 Meet but to grace a Saviour's diadem !
 
 60 LEAH. 
 
 There was the shed, beneath whose ruined roof, 
 Were housed the outcasts, banned, and cast aloof 
 From all their fellow-kind, because their faith 
 "Was cursed beyond all other, and whose death 
 Was fated to be harsher ; there they lay, 
 Unconscious of the parts they were to j^lay 
 In the approaching drama, while witliout 
 Waited their cruel foes, they did not doubt. 
 For e'en one instant, Providence ; within, 
 The hearts were pure, without, were dark with sin. 
 Tes, yes, 'twas true ! Tliough harsh might be the 
 
 lot 
 Of those poor souls, who dwelt in that sad spot. 
 Though scorned by all, and driv'n from land to 
 
 land. 
 With fiery scourges, and chastising hand. 
 Theirs was a nobler nature, and more true 
 Than theirs who had but ruthlessness in view. 
 Tes ! though far fallen from his mighty place, 
 The Jew could scorn the scorners of his race !
 
 LEAH. 61 
 
 Then Bert olf entered. "Jews, come forth!" he 
 
 said; 
 The summons once repeated, and a head 
 Silvered with age and with the snows of time 
 Peeped forth, astonished, from the open door. 
 " Who hails the outcasts in this hostile clime ? 
 May not the Jews die on their tabued floor ?" 
 And forth there tottered, doubtful in his gait, 
 Blind Abram, and toward the open gate 
 He strained his sightless eyes. "I called, come 
 
 forth ! 
 WTiere is the Jewess Leah ?" 
 
 " She went forth 
 Not half-an-hour syne ; 'twoidd be a task 
 To find her now ; but — wherefore dost thou ask ?" 
 And then a look of ill-disguised fear 
 Crept on the ckf man's face. " She is not here." 
 The words seemed comfort, as if Heaven would 
 
 say, 
 " From present ill thy darling is away."
 
 62 LEAH, 
 
 But over BertoLTs countenance tliere fell 
 A look of triuinpli, triumpli dark as hell ; 
 Tlie path seemed easier ; she was away, 
 She whom he dreaded most, and he might pay 
 The guerdon to her parents, who for gold 
 Would may -be reckon not her truth was sold. 
 So far, the plot seemed brighter than before ; 
 Now for the trial ; all would soon be o'er. 
 " I seek no ill, list here. Te must not stay 
 Here in this neighbourhood one further day. 
 Or death awaits you." 
 
 " Who threats us with death ?" 
 Said a weak voice, " we fear it not ; the •nTeath 
 Of mourning flowers cannot distant be. 
 Tears have elapsed since death could frighten 
 
 me." 
 Quick Bertolf turned, and by his side he saw 
 Deborah standing. " 'Tis the country's law : 
 Now hearken both, and as ye hear, obey. 
 I waste not words, nor, what I mean delay ;
 
 LEAH. 63 
 
 If you remain here, persecution waits 
 
 Tour sojourn, death stands eager in the gates 
 
 Ready to seize you ; you must not remain 
 
 Here longer, or all prayers will be in vain. 
 
 Choose this, or go. Te see this purse I hold. 
 
 Heavy it feels, 'tis stocked with shining gold ; 
 
 This, if you go, is yours. — I am your friend, 
 
 I counsel you. Harshly your fortunes tend. 
 
 In this cold land ; evil the lot to bear, 
 
 Many the sorrows and the woes to share ; 
 
 Be warned in time, and go." With glistening eyes 
 
 Started the Jewess, and in glad surprise — 
 
 " Thanks, worthy sir, we will ; may Heaven send 
 
 Its choicest blessings on the poor man's friend ! 
 
 Gladly we thank thee." 
 
 " Deborah, stay awhile," 
 Cried suddenly old Abram, and a smile 
 Of bitter scorn passed o'er the wTinkled brow. 
 " It must be he, and yet, how different now !" 
 For on the patriarch's memory flashed again
 
 64 LEAH. 
 
 A wide cathedral, wliere the anthem's strain 
 Was pealing grandly, and amidst the choir 
 Was one sweet voice amongst all others higher ; 
 This voice rolled onward, dream-like, till he knew 
 The owner was within an eye-sight's view ; 
 And forth there seemed to flash upon his mind, 
 The deep-laid treachery which lurked behind 
 This outward show of mercy, and his face 
 Grew paler. " Hold, as Heaven gives me grace, 
 I know the voice of him who speaks to thee, 
 A voice long since forgotten, but by me. 
 'Tis Nathan ! Nathan !" 
 
 Livid grew the look 
 Of the Apostate, and with fear he shook, 
 Lest those without might hear. " Curse on thy 
 
 tongue ; 
 Man, keep thou silence !" Tet the courtyard rung 
 With strife of tongues. "As there's a God in 
 
 Heaven, 
 I know thee Nathan, recreant ; and is given
 
 LEAH. - Go 
 
 Almost my sight to me. Hast thou forgot 
 
 The synagogue of Presburg — well I wot 
 
 Thou know'st the place where thou wert wout to 
 
 stand. 
 And sing thy praises at the Priest's right hand." 
 
 As a wild famished wolf when hunger bites 
 His every sense, and dainty prey invites 
 An easy capture, with a desperate bound 
 Bertolf sprang on him, forced him to the ground : 
 " Silence, I say ! my heart thou knowest well, 
 I love the present more than heaven or hell!" 
 " Ah, murder ! Help !" groaned Abram. — 
 
 " Take it then !" 
 One short half sob escaped, and all again 
 Was silent ; stretched upon the dewy sward 
 Lay the still corpse, and gazed up to the sky ; 
 Dra^vTi stiff the face, for he had struggled hard, 
 Open and glassy was the dead man's eye. 
 As on the ground the murdered victim fell 
 Bertolf sprang up, as stricken by some spell ;
 
 66 • LEAH. 
 
 And now, as thougli tlie sky itself was riven, 
 Rolled one loud roar of thunder, and the heaven 
 Was lighted by a lurid flame, and then, 
 Close by the body of the newly slain, 
 Fell, with a crash that seemed to shake the ground, 
 A thunderbolt, and all the space around 
 "Was filled with sulphurous vapour. Those with- 
 out 
 Brake in the door, and in a frightened rout 
 Eushed in, but when they saw that body lie, 
 And marked the dreadful look in Deborah's eye, 
 They stood aghast : but Bertolf slowly said, 
 " The bolt destroyed him; 'tis the Jew lies dead." 
 Then they departed leaving that dark spot, 
 Wondering, yet religion's zeal was hot 
 Within their bosoms. 'Twas a righteous cause, 
 And Heaven had slain the one who broke its laws. 
 They left the spot, which erst so calm had been, 
 A place of mourning, and a murder's scene.
 
 LEAH. 
 
 67 
 
 Canto m. 
 
 UE work is o'er, away, away, 
 Ended is the busy day ; 
 To our Happy homes repair, 
 Quiet peace awaits us there. 
 
 "All things fast sink off to sleep. 
 Balmy dreams the eyelids keep ; 
 Thoughts the wish can ne'er control 
 Pass in visions 'cross the soul. 
 
 " Hail, to rest ! beloved of all ; 
 Sweet upon the spirit fall 
 Thoughts of happy, happy love, 
 Eaise the heart to things above.
 
 68 LEAH. 
 
 " Homeward drive tlie pastured flocks, 
 When daylight sinks neath Lerna's rocks, 
 "When the glowing orb of light 
 Yields the sway to gentle night. 
 
 " Eest is pleasant after toil, 
 To the children of the soil, 
 And our comfort homes repay 
 All the labours of the day, 
 
 " On the hills the glow is cast. 
 And the sunlight dieth fast ; 
 Pather, grant the boon of rest. 
 To each sorrow-stricken breast." 
 
 — Such was the song that fell upon the ear 
 Swelling in cadence from the grassy vale, 
 Echoed in caverns where the rocks uprear 
 Their lofty summits, fanned by evening's gale. 
 And down the hill- side wound a long array
 
 LEAH. 69 
 
 Of labourers, and slieplierds, weudiug home, 
 Chauting their praises at the close of day, 
 Thanks for the past and hopes for years to come. 
 Eoimd the hill's base the sheep were safely flocked, 
 Whitening the verdant pass, the tiny bells 
 Tinkled harmoniously as they rocked, 
 And silvery music lived in those sweet dells. 
 On the high hills fell fast the crimson hue 
 Of parting day, the sight was fair to view ; 
 And the wild melody, which still uprose, 
 Lent but a charm nor broke the calm repose, 
 As the rich light Ht up the sky around, 
 And tinged with radiance the horizon's bound. 
 
 " Hail, sweet Kght, and hail to Thee, 
 Ever hallowed Trinity ! 
 Father, grant a listening ear. 
 Make thy grace a dweller here !" 
 
 The shepherds passed from sight; the hymn was o'er. 
 And as they finished, daylight was no more.
 
 70 LEAH. 
 
 But the grey haze of twilight dimmed the sky, 
 And the white moon began her march on high, 
 The hum of human voices sank away, 
 All that was living rested with the day — 
 Eest, happy rest, a boon indeed to earth, 
 A bound to pleasure, and relief from mirth : 
 Joy grows full wearisome, but silence brings 
 Whispers of heaven upon its welcome wings, 
 "Whispers which never else may cross the mind, 
 "When youth and buoyancy leave thought behind 
 Por future age. 'Tis truly sweet to mark 
 The silver moon up rise, to cheer the dark 
 Expanse of sky, and lend her gentle rays, 
 Not as the sun, a burst of glorious blaze 
 Eclipsing all beside, but in her light 
 Purer and calmer : through the summer night, 
 Mellowed by distance, doth her silent face 
 Gaze on the earth, and mark each secret place 
 With searching eye. — Eor ages thou hast seen, 
 Thou pale, pale moon, the changes of the scene,
 
 LEAH. 
 
 71 
 
 And still wilt see tLem ! From the azure sky, 
 "WTiat hast thou seen ? "What has thy watching eye 
 Looked down upon ? The faces of the dead 
 Were known to thee : no sorrow-burdened head 
 But has found respite in thy quiet hour, 
 Safe from the burden of the cruel power 
 Of care and misery. Oh ! what foul crimes 
 Hast thou been witness of in bygone times, 
 Thou silent, wondrous moon ! Cursed, and yet 
 
 blessed 
 Thou art to man, thou leadest him to rest, 
 Yet oft thou prov'st his bane ; that very charm 
 Which sometimes shields thy follower from harm. 
 May prove his do^vnfaU, if he be not ware 
 Of those sweet chains, which please us but to 
 
 snare ! 
 Yet, when in heaven's vault thou dost appear, 
 Thronged by thy brilliant satellites, all fear 
 Seems quick to flee, and in the liardest breast 
 Eises a some tiling near akin to rest.
 
 72 LEAH. 
 
 Evening crept on, and Lorrenz' farm was still. 
 Hushed was tlie land, the clacking of the mill 
 Had ceased. There was but one soft plaintive 
 
 sound 
 Broke the deep stillness of the air around. 
 Trom Lorrenz' home poured forth in saddened 
 
 strain 
 Sweet music notes, first swelling high, again 
 Down-sinking slowly ; all was still beside. 
 As if the very evening sought to hide 
 Its noise to catch the music, and the air 
 Waved with the measured notes, and seemed to 
 
 share 
 Their feeling. Ah, but there was bitter care 
 Within that house, no joy could enter where 
 Blighted was peace, nor ever more could come, 
 To shed a lustre on the darkened home. 
 And Rudolf was bent down. Ah, 'twas a blow 
 Too heavy for a human soul to bear, 
 The heai't was crushed beneath its weight of woe,
 
 LEAH. 73 
 
 Nor any gladness found a welcome there. 
 It was a blow ! He thought she was not true. 
 The proofs he had that she had ta'en his gold ; 
 Sorely his hasty spirit did he rue, 
 Her influence so strongly could him hold ; 
 He tore her image from its cherished place, 
 He thought of her as only of the dead. 
 Sin veiled beneath the beauty of her face ; 
 And care bent down the lately proud-held head ! 
 
 She stood within the coui't, and the dark night 
 Seemed daylight to her, where her soul's delight 
 Abode ; for ne'er a doubt had crossed her mind 
 But that he loved her still. Ah ! love is blind, 
 And e'er is loath the first rebuke to deem 
 The utter waking from its golden dream ! 
 Still she was wondering that she saw him not. 
 This was the hour, and this the appointed spot. 
 And here she waited, thinking of the time 
 "When he would lead her to some other clime
 
 74 XEAH. 
 
 To live in happiness ; but yet 'twas vain 
 
 To try to curb all tbougbts, for tbey again 
 
 "Would e'er return, and in a murmur low, 
 
 Sbe wondered wben himself would bid them go. 
 
 *' Strange that he comes not ; 'tis the appointed 
 
 hour : 
 Is beauty's curse to be my fatal dower, 
 Not love for love ? Never ! His words were 
 
 spoken 
 Too deep in truth, to rashly thus be broken ! 
 Why should I thus torment with fears my heart, 
 Pears, that my mind doth instant bid depart. 
 Is memory false ? and can I e'er forget 
 The words he spake to me when last we met ? 
 No, no, my heart !" And then the music rose 
 Upon the wind. " What sorrowing strains are 
 
 those, 
 Breathed as the harp feels that joy's day is o'er. 
 Happiness gone, and peace, dear peace, no more." 
 She left her stand, and passed beneath the wall,
 
 LEAH. VD 
 
 (Attracted as a bird by fowler's call), 
 Stood by tlie opened Avindow, gazed within, 
 Unseen though seeing ; Madelene was there, 
 A child of heaven, with heart un chilled by sin, 
 Nor e'er had troubles placed their signet there ; 
 And Leah looked on her, and looked again 
 In strange timidity, a stinging pain, 
 Shot through her breast, the pain of jealousy. 
 The thought that in that household, Eudolf (he 
 On whom she built her being) dwelt to all 
 Temptations open ; and he, he might fall 
 An easy victim to them, and might leave 
 Her heart bereft, and cause her soul to grieve 
 O'er that which once had blessed it. But she bade 
 The thoughts far from her breast. " They must 
 
 not fade 
 My soul's bright dreams ; I will not think that he 
 Could doom my heart to such deep misery. 
 As must prey on it, if his heart grew cold, 
 And turned away from me; love's gentle mould
 
 76 LEAH. 
 
 Must leave a firmer impress : but one light 
 Shines o'er my pathway, through the long, long 
 
 night, 
 And 'tis my love ; 'tis love that grants me peace 
 From care, from sin, and bids e'en sorrow cease 
 Its toilsome round." — Long time stood Leah there 
 Waitiug for Eudolf, and alternate share 
 Had ia her bosom hope, and chilly fear ; 
 Hope, every instant, that he would appear 
 To bless her sight ; fear, lest he might delay, 
 Perchance forget, to come ; unmeaning stay 
 Her stream of happiness. The shadows grew 
 Longer and darker, and the varying hue 
 Climbed higher, higher ; still he never came, 
 And icy pangs shot through her gentle frame, 
 Breathing she knew not what, a feeling strange 
 As yet to her, beyond th' untutored range 
 Of her young mind. Doubt doth not live with 
 
 love, 
 Yet doubt will oft sincere afiection prove.
 
 LEAH. 77 
 
 A remedy, fhougli harsh, will sometimes give 
 An end to pain, which otherwise would strive 
 Against the heart, till both alike must fall, 
 And deep forgetfulness roll over all. 
 Tet doubt is near to hate, and piles the bier 
 Youth's visions to entomb, the dreams most dear. 
 Oh ! would that thou, poor maid, hadst never met 
 Him that thou lovedst ! Ah ! harsh fate had set 
 A gloomy future for thee, from the hour 
 When first thou kuew'st love's maddening burning 
 
 power, 
 And joy'd in it. "Would that prayers might avail 
 Thy bosom's idol in its place to save ; 
 Tet, 'twere no use, they would but raise the veil 
 Sooner to leave thee, lone, the world to brave, 
 And show the utter worthlessness beliind. 
 To warp too soon that gentle, trusting mind, 
 Too young to meet the storm-burst and too pure 
 To bow to sin's dark shame, but would endure 
 All hardness, coldness, with a soul that soared
 
 78 lEAH. 
 
 Far above earth, although the heart outpoured 
 Its noblest thoughts in silence, and unknown, 
 Save to the brain which claimed them as its own, 
 Till dearth of comfort slowly bhghted all 
 That once was bright, on which the shadows fall 
 Dimming all future hope, while hope is waking 
 E'en to its prime, until — the heart is breaking ! 
 Oh ! Life, what art thou after all ? A vale 
 Of tears and sighs, youth, beauty, glory, fail 
 One after one. Tet beautiful to see, 
 To one who knows it not, is vanity, 
 Until the lapse of ages breaks the crust 
 Of outward brilliancy, and shows the dust 
 Of which the idol, hugged to every breast 
 Was all composed ; the wolf is ever dressed 
 E'en as the lamb ; that town most fair without, 
 Is always worse within. We must not doubt 
 All, everything we love, but we must guard 
 Against all falsity, which doth award, 
 Einally, nought but shame, which fails and leaves
 
 LEAH. 79 
 
 A sorroAving spirit, and a soul that gi'ieves 
 It so had been deceived, as not to mark 
 The rotten veiling of the hidden spark 
 That gnaws and burns within, until all life 
 Is swallowed up in an immeaning strife. 
 
 She gathered courage : " This was Eudolf 's home," 
 He who had prayed her earnestly to come, 
 And yet he was not ready : tiU at last 
 With trembling hand, and bosom beatiug fast. 
 She knocked the door in hopes that he might hear, 
 And so remember ; he might be thus near, 
 Almost she thought she heard his voice — Alas ! 
 'Twas but a thought, and thoughts like lightning 
 
 pass. 
 Her knock was faint, unheard. Tlie abbey chime 
 From Lerna hills, had marked, 'twas past the time, 
 Tar past th' appointed time ; she knocked again. 
 Louder this time ; and now 'twas not in vain. 
 Por while she stood there, feverish, a voice
 
 so LEAH. 
 
 Thrilled on her ear, it made her heart rejoice 
 Even while trembling, Ah ! now must be blasted 
 The bud of joy, so beauteous while it lasted ! 
 •' Who is it comes, with such unpitying ruth, 
 To mock the silence of the house of woe ; 
 To view the joyless state of age and youth. 
 Where streams of anguish o'er their spirits flow." 
 Slowly the portal opened, and Lorrenz 
 Issued therefrom. " Accursed woman, hence !" 
 He almost shrieked, when first with staring eye 
 He saw the cause of Eudolf s misery. 
 " Accursed, comest thou, too late to save, 
 To scatter mockeries on thy victim's grave ? 
 I bid thee hence!" The deep-set eye flashed fire. 
 The son's proud spirit burned within the sire. 
 On that old man the Jewish maiden gazed, 
 Not angered, but spell-bound, as if amazed 
 By the strange tidings. High she raised her head, 
 " Wliom speak' st thou of ? I know not who is dead. 
 I have slain no one. Stay," across her flashed
 
 LEAH. 81 
 
 A dim foreboding of some future ill, 
 
 And from her cheek the starting tear she dashed, 
 
 "Is Eudolfhurt or dead?"—" Deceiver, still 
 
 Look'st thou for him ? Dost ever think that he 
 
 Could lower all himself to think of thee ?" 
 
 " He is not dead, thou say'st, then why should I 
 
 Become the source of any's agony ? 
 
 What meanest thou ?" But in old Lorrenz' mind, 
 
 Had vanished now the feelings once so kind ; 
 
 The proof was strong, although her mien was 
 
 proud, 
 She was an utter hypocrite, nor bowed 
 By modest reticence, therefore he thought 
 'Twas only avarice that thus had brought 
 Her still to havmt his son. Had he but known 
 That she was innocent, he would have shown 
 As much of kindness to that trembling form, 
 As now of sternness in his passion's storm. 
 " Thou sordid, wretched woman, as I say 
 The matter lies, as truly as that day 
 
 a
 
 82 LEAH. 
 
 Precedes the night. He looked for love, and that 
 He found not in thee, though thy witcheries sat 
 Deep on his heart ; thy cursed love of pelf 
 Hath dimmed his future, while — it damned 
 
 thyself!" 
 But Leah stood, with stony, fixed gaze 
 Full on his face, a look of blank despair 
 Stamped ou the cold, pale features, not amaze, 
 But utter hopelessness was planted there. 
 In all her fear she scarce had thought of this. 
 And now the dread reality had come, 
 He, who had lately prized the lightest kiss. 
 Doomed her a houseless wanderer to roam. 
 Could it be true ? And then one ray of hope 
 Broke forth ; hut ah ! 'twas faint, and scarce could 
 
 cope 
 With dread conviction ! "Would that he were here 
 To save or slay ; truth cannot be so di'ear 
 As cruel doubt. " Oh ! wait till /have heard 
 Myself him speak to me, although his word
 
 LEAH. 83 
 
 Should kill me there ; 'twere better thus to die 
 Before my love lives but iu memory ! 
 Oh ! let me see him, hear him speak once more, 
 Once, only once, and then — let aU be o'er! 
 Let me but look on him, Rudolf, again. 
 Then let me die if I shall be his bane !" 
 Scarce had she spoken, when beneath the door 
 Stood Eudolf, and she roused herself once more. 
 The blood rushed back and blushed upon her cheek : 
 " 'Tis he !" she cried, and scarce could further speak, 
 Her accents were so broken. " Thou wilt prove 
 These cruel slanders false ; thou know'st my love, 
 Can'st never doubt it ! Thou hast been to me 
 Most dear, and so I dreamt I was to thee ! 
 Say, was I wrong ? Say, hast thou kept the oath 
 Thou swor'st, and which was echoed by us both ?" 
 He gazed upon her stedfastly, his eye 
 Softened so late by love, shone brightly dry 
 As if in bitter anger, while upheaved 
 His chest in fitful gasps, as though it grieved
 
 84 LEAH. 
 
 To enter on its task, to breathe the knell 
 
 To hope, and bid to joy a long farewell ! 
 
 She met his look with an unshrinking eye 
 
 Fearless at first, then with a stifled cry 
 
 She marked the change — " Eudolf, what ails thy 
 
 spirit ? 
 Tell me thy grief, that I at least may share it !" 
 As when upon the hills the rooted oak 
 Falls prone to earth beneath the woodman's stroke, 
 As shrink the foe before the hero's lance. 
 Her spirit sudden fell beneath his glance. 
 " Most perjured of thy sex, in maddened haste 
 I pledged my troth to thee — I will not waste 
 My words on thee, thou heed'st them not — all, all 
 I ever said of love I now recall ; 
 Think not, at woman's pleasure human hearts 
 Can thus be toyed with, as the stinging darts 
 AVhich rankled deep in them availed not 
 To bate her cruel will, one single jot 
 To turn her from her purpose, or to make
 
 LEAH. 85 
 
 Her pause and tliink, before slie stoops to break 
 A heart too loving to withstand the stock, 
 Tliougb ber's may bide unmoved as a rock. 
 Now bear me out ! Thou, wbom I trusted most, 
 Hast played me falsely, and my soul bas lost 
 All bope of tbee. I loved tbee more, far more 
 Tban fatber, or tban bonour ; all is o'er, 
 Blasted by one fell stroke. Tbou, thou, bast sold 
 Tby present and tby future life for gold ! 
 Por filtby lucre ! Bitter was tbe bour 
 Tbat sbowed tbee to me, for love's burning power 
 Veiled all tby falsehood from my blinded eyes 
 Until 'twas full ! Ob ! Grod, wby bast tbou made 
 Such black- drawn clouds before our bopes to rise, 
 Till all tbe promises of life must fade ? 
 I can no more !" He turned bis bead away. 
 And one large tear coursed slowly down bis cbeek, 
 His beart seemed bursting, as it could not stay 
 Its wild pulsation ; and be ceased to speak. 
 Tbe moonlight fell upon tbe mossy ground,
 
 86 LEAH. 
 
 Silvering silently the scene around ; 
 
 And there he stood, his hands upon his face, 
 
 His bosom heaving, as it fain would chase 
 
 Sad memories far, but could not. There were three, 
 
 Each with his separate work of agony. 
 
 She was half terrified, all this was dark 
 To her, and terrible, she could but mark 
 That he was angry, and she shrank beneath 
 The fire of his glance, as at the breath 
 Of the fierce sand-wind Egypt's lily lies, 
 O'er charged with heat, and yielding sweetness 
 
 dies! 
 She was not guilty, but she could not bear 
 Him to look harshly on her ; she would share 
 His troubles if he had them. " Eudolf mine, 
 Whate'er thou hast of care, is also mine." — 
 She stole beside him silently, and took 
 His hand in her's. Instant, he roughly shook 
 Her off. " Ealse woman, get thee hence, I say !
 
 LEAH. 87 
 
 I know tliee not, thy form is torn away 
 
 From where it once reigned paramount ; I know 
 
 Thy cruel treachery, and that doth show 
 
 Thy shallow heart ! Gold has updrawn the veil 
 
 Which glazed mine eyes, thy arts will nought avail 
 
 Against pure nature ! Heaven ! to think that thou 
 
 Would'st have deceived!" — 
 
 — " Eudolf, but hear"— 
 
 — " Thy brow 
 Seemed crowned by innocence ; no more delay. 
 I have no part in thee, why dost thou stay ? 
 "Was not thy pay sufficient" — (on the ground 
 He dashed his pujse ; it burst, and scattered round 
 The glittering coins) — " add this to that thou hast, 
 And sell to me oblivion of the past !" 
 She cried, as he turned from her to the door, 
 " Eudolf, but hear me ! Eudolf, I implore 
 Thee, listen to me ! Some one has deceived 
 Thy heart, and poisoned 'gainst me all I had 
 Of pleasure, and of that I am bereaved !
 
 88 LEAH. 
 
 Stay, Eudolf, stay, thy doubts will drive me mad!" 
 She sprang quick after him. " Let me but speak !" 
 " Thou hast, enough, what further would' st thou 
 
 seek ? 
 Thou hast destroyed my happiness !" The door 
 Was closed upon him, and the wind out-bore 
 The last few words. Then rushed upon her mind 
 The thought " I am bereft !" and left behind 
 No hope to cheer ; all strength forsook her frame, 
 She cried once more upon the cherished name ! 
 "Wild gazed she round upon the placid sky, 
 And senseless sank upon the dewy ground, 
 All life forsook her, with a wailing cry 
 She swooned, and all agaia was still around.
 
 LEAH. 89 
 
 Canto W. 
 
 HE day was breaking fast, the god of light 
 Had chased the shadows of the silent 
 night, 
 
 And in the east the rosy hue proclaimed 
 The morn at hand ; the stars, as if ashamed, 
 Had ceased their light, one, only one, remaining, 
 The fairest of them, and e'en that was waning. 
 The fresh, soft breeze was whispering 'cross the 
 
 fields, 
 Breathing a fragrance o'er the teeming land, 
 Blessing with increase all that nature yields 
 To hardy labour vnth a willing hand. 
 The drifting clouds by the mild wind were fanned 
 Slowly and lazily across the sky. 
 Like a huge flock of sheep pastured on high
 
 90 LEAH. 
 
 They seemed, as white they slowly wended by. 
 On Lerna's hill shone bright the breaking day, 
 From Lerna's peak the clouds were rolled away, 
 And all the vales were bathed in light ; the horn 
 Of rising shepherds smote upon the ear, 
 Breathing the very spirit of the dawn, 
 Seeming to bid each mortal banish fear. 
 The hamlet was now stirring, and the street 
 Already echoed back the sound of feet, 
 As now a troop of maidens passed along, 
 Their voices chorusing a joyous song. 
 They came to Lorrenz' door. — A month had passed 
 Across Time's record, since we saw it last ; 
 Rudolf had promised instantly his sire, 
 Since she was false, and aU their love was o'er, 
 That he would yield to all of his desire. 
 And never see the Jewish maiden more. 
 His father long had wished that Madelene 
 Should wed his son, and the one bar between 
 "Was now removed. True, this a pang had cost,
 
 LEAH. 91 
 
 But after all, -what had Ms Eudolf lost ? 
 
 A woman, false in nature and accursed, 
 
 So 'twas decreed for ever : slie who first 
 
 Stole his son's heart, had hoped, and tried to break 
 
 It in her avarice, for this one's sake 
 
 It scarce were well to grieve. This time the blow 
 
 Had fallen harshly, but did that not show 
 
 That it were well, if, in some novelty 
 
 His son could break his sullen lethargy ? 
 
 So Eudolf was to marry Madelene, 
 
 Though all the past seemed yet to lie between 
 
 The fulness of their love. She could but know. 
 
 His very heart was shattered by the blow 
 
 That one had dealt ; but still she thought that he 
 
 Would over-live it, or at least, that she 
 
 Might help his soul to bear it. Oh ! the love 
 
 Which prompted her was noble. She would prove 
 
 That love was love for ever, that must bring 
 
 Some slight return. All, all his suffering
 
 92 LEAH. 
 
 She too would bear, and if his heart should siuk 
 Beneath its load adown the yawning brink 
 Of dark despair, her's too would fall, nor stay 
 When all his joys and her's were torn away. 
 
 The maidens stayed, a blooming group before 
 The old farm-house, assayed to ope the door ; 
 It still was closed. " Madge, Madelene, we come 
 With flowers to deck thy future bridal home ! 
 
 " Haste ! arise, the dawn is breaking, 
 Chase the bonds of sleep away, 
 'Tis full time thou should'st be waking. 
 For it is thy wedding day." 
 
 She heard them call, and to the window frame, 
 Roused from a reverie, she smiling came. 
 " Thanks, Kate and Margaret, and all beside 
 For your good wishes ; never think a bride 
 Would sleej) beyond the dawn ; I will descend 
 And ope the door, and pray your presence lend,
 
 LEAH. 93 
 
 As well as help." And witli a speedy hand 
 She raised the latch, and all the youtliful band 
 Poured in to welcome her ; and now the day 
 Began to wear its sunny hours away. 
 
 It was a festival. Lorrenz had spread 
 
 A bounteous table for the poor ; his head 
 
 "Was blessed a thousand times. Sweet music strains 
 
 Were ever heard, and all the village swains 
 
 Had donned their best. Oh ! 'twas a glorious time 
 
 As e'er was that, when in its earliest prime 
 
 The great world was. The thickly branched trees 
 
 "Waved at the onset of the quiet breeze 
 
 That stole among the leaflets ; 'neath the shade, 
 
 Apart from those who merrily on-played, 
 
 "Were groups reclining, and the hours passed, 
 
 To those young souls, brief as a cloud is cast 
 
 Athwart the sun, which for a moment hides 
 
 Its glory till the piercing ray divides 
 
 The flimsy veil and scatters light around ;
 
 94 LEAH. 
 
 So, quick the pleasures passed. The quiet sound 
 Of the church bells chimed sweetly in amain, 
 Anon up swelling, then half hushed again. 
 At last, amidst the blessings whispered loud, 
 The bridal train passed slowly through the crowd. 
 First came ten maidens, in their kirtles dressed, 
 Chosen for bridesmaids from among the rest, 
 Chanting a jubilee the while they moved. 
 Invoking blessings on the pair they loved. — 
 
 " Happy the hour that brings 
 Union upon its wings, 
 And all of sorrow flings 
 
 Far from its train. 
 Happy the youthful pair, 
 And may their spirits share 
 Freedom from every care, 
 
 While cares remain ! 
 
 May but Life's sweetest side 
 Beam on the village pride,
 
 LEAH. 95 
 
 And on his fair young bride ; 
 
 All sorrows die ; 
 Leaving no saddening trace 
 To mar the bright young face, 
 May joy the troubles chase, 
 
 Soon fleeting by!" 
 
 The way was strewn with flowers, carpet meet 
 
 For such occasion ; and the blithesome feet 
 
 Tripped merrily along. Old Lorrenz came, 
 
 Sprightly as though his bent but hardy frame 
 
 Felt no efiects of sickness, but appeared 
 
 As well as any, and his head up -reared 
 
 As once in youth. Time had passed kindly by 
 
 The old man's form ; his eagle piercing eye 
 
 Glowed as in childhood, though full many years 
 
 Had passed him on the road, with griefs and tears 
 
 Too often rife ; yet on this festal day 
 
 He seemed as if his age had passed away. 
 
 They reached the church ; and waiting at the door,
 
 96 lEAH. 
 
 Stood tlae old pastor ; as their footsteps bore 
 Them near, they bowed the knee ; and silence filled 
 The summer air, which but just past had thrilled 
 "With joyous merriment. Th' assembly heard 
 The pastor's welcome, and his kiadly word : 
 " Bless you, my children, and may God in Heaven 
 Prosper your union, may to you be given 
 Earth's brightest guerdons." Many a tender 
 
 breast 
 Heaved high with blessing when they mark'd the 
 
 prayer, 
 Full many a voice breathed " Amen" to the quest 
 From Him above. Sweet was their love ; and fair 
 "Was now the scene, upon the mossy sward 
 Tall manly forms bent down before their Lord. 
 
 They entered all. "Within the dim-drawn aisle 
 Eudolf and Madelena knelt. A smile 
 Played on her features ; in that holy place 
 She seemed an Angel filled with heavenly grace.
 
 LEAH. 97 
 
 The quivering beams which through the windows 
 
 came 
 Fell softly, like God's smiles, upon her frame. 
 But EudoLf wore e'en now, a look so sad, 
 That many wondered ; all the welcomes glad 
 Poured forth to him but grated on his ear ; 
 E'er would to him another form appear, 
 He never could forget her ; he might try, 
 And half- succeeding, Hve, and strive, and die, 
 But never could forget her ! So they stood 
 There, side by side — the saddened and the good. 
 
 The service was proceeding, and the sound 
 Of the deep organ pealed in strains around, 
 Sweet and yet rich. From the green woods 
 
 there came 
 A female form, — 'twas Leah. How that name 
 "Would have reproached him, had he but known all 
 That cruel men had striven to fulfil: 
 Too late, alas ! would he shake olF their thrall ; 
 
 H
 
 9S LEAH. 
 
 The cords now bound, would hold both heart and 
 
 will. 
 Slowly the Jewess came ; her raven hair 
 "Was loose, and ruffled by the breezy air 
 That played in it, the wavy mass, unbound. 
 Streamed o'er her shoulders to the velvet ground, 
 And the soft Hnen turban round her head 
 Gained not in whiteness, only seemed to shed 
 A deeper contrast, as its snowy hue 
 Seemed duU before the brightness of her brow, 
 Serving to give her beauty all its due, 
 Though pensive 'twas, and overshadowed now. 
 Inviting was the silent churchyard's shade, 
 Solemn and lonely ; so here 'twas she stayed 
 Her wand'ring steps. "Was this some wondrous 
 
 thought 
 Of Providence, that hither she was brought ? 
 She had strayed on, — she did not know nor care 
 Where she was coming — but — she had come there. 
 There at the very moment, when within
 
 LEAH. 99 
 
 The church's -walls, was crowned a deed of sin ! 
 Can this be chance ? Can atheists madly call 
 That power a mock'ry, which thus guides us all ? 
 No, no — the spell, which with a subtle power 
 Governs our actions every passing hour, 
 Is the kind hand of heaven. "When earth began 
 Its grand existence, think'st thou, scoffing man, 
 That this was chance ? Think'st thou that man is led 
 Alone by that he stores up in his head ? 
 That 'tis a fickle fortune rules our earth. 
 Prone, now to sorrow, and now prone to mirth ? 
 This is a heathen creed. A heathen dream 
 Was its first germ ; but doth the fruit beseem 
 Those who have now the Gospel's shining light 
 To beacon them with glories ever bright ? 
 No, he who yields to chance all things unknown. 
 Measures th' Almighty wisdom by his own. 
 
 She stood and mused awhile ; recalled the past, 
 Alas ! too bright, too beautiful to last !
 
 100 LEAH. 
 
 "WTiat Lad she done ? Slie did not know her crime : 
 He must still love ; their hearts had once united ; 
 Would not his love outstand the lapse of time ? 
 Must all her cherished dreams for aye be blighted ? 
 Ah yes ! she felt 'twas true ; her ears had heard 
 His laugh of scorn, the last most stinging word 
 Of anger burst from him ; and as she thought 
 That he could deem she could be basely bought, 
 The flush of anger mounted to her cheek. 
 And thus, in murmurs, she began to speak : 
 " Can it be true that Heaven ne'er forbids 
 Such deep hatched treachery, but shuts its lids 
 To such base perjury ? To me he swore 
 His heart, his soul, must love me ever more ; 
 And — I believed him ! Then he forged a tale, 
 A bitter lie, his pretest to avail, 
 — And cast me off" ! The hour is now too late ; 
 My race can love, my race can also hate 
 "While life exists : but ah, my soul is dead ! 
 All that I loved in life has fled, has fled !
 
 LEAH, 101 
 
 The lamp exists, but quenched is its flame, 
 And it but rears a hollow, empty frame 
 Over sweet hope's dark sepulchre. My heart 
 Must now forget those happy, sunny days ; 
 Like lightning's flash the fleeting hours depart. 
 Which vanishes while brightest it doth blaze." 
 Her voice was choked by sobs, the pent up grief 
 Burst from her heart, and wildly heaved her breast j 
 But ah, her sorrow could find no relief 
 In tears, nor that now blighted heart find rest. 
 
 Poor girl, there were none in that hour of need 
 To cheer her darkness, or to sow the seed 
 Of future joy ; her's was a barren lot ; 
 Deserted, lone, and even Jte forgot 
 His plighted oath. Could but her sorrowing soul 
 Have sobbed its grief away, and all control 
 Of self been lost, then while her nature gave 
 Dominion up she had escaped the grave — • 
 The grave of all her hopes ! But no, ah no !
 
 102 LEAH. 
 
 Her's was no common grief, nor petty woe ; 
 It was a weight which but with life departs, 
 When Heaven can soothe the over- wearied hearts. 
 Her's was a nature that could never brook 
 Such slight as this, which while it rudely shook 
 Her inmost feelings, dulled the source of hope, 
 And left no weapon for her heart to cope 
 With all its agony, with all its pain ! 
 Wearisome task ! To chase, and chase again 
 Those darkening doubts, whilst ever they return. 
 With newer power. Oh ! the soul must yearn 
 Tor final rest, long that her course were o'er. 
 That Heaven's sweet Home were hers for evermore. 
 Long, vainly long to send herself away. 
 Ear from this earth, to that sweet, endless day ! 
 And Leah wished this, while the blinding tears 
 Streamed down her cheeks. To all there aye 
 
 appears 
 The vision of the end ! — And thus she mused 
 On all the sweets fate had to her refused.
 
 LEAH. 103 
 
 Slie listened : — " Ah ! I liear a distant voice ! 
 A nuptial blessing— Oh ! the happy pair ! 
 Would that, like theirs, my spii'it could rejoice 
 In innocent forgetfulness of care ! 
 I too join in that blessing. Oh ! may they 
 Ne'er know the pangs that I have felt tliis day ! 
 Amen, to that bright blessing, and again 
 May they be happy in their love ! — Amen ! 
 — I would that I could see them, for one face 
 Of truthfulness would seem to lend a grace 
 And tone to life. From yonder oaken door 
 I can behold them," — and she slowly bore 
 Her footsteps thither. All at once, a chill 
 And dread of some fresh, overwhelming ill 
 Dulled all her mind. " But hark ! their voices 
 
 speak." 
 She ope'd the door, and gazed — with one sharp 
 
 shriek 
 She started back. " 'Tis he !" the Jewess cried ! 
 " 'Tis he!" the echoing woods and vales replied !
 
 104 LEAH. 
 
 She closed the door. " Heaven, you did not hear 
 My last ' Amen.' — Tou could not bend your ear 
 To listen to such blasphemy ! I call, 
 I call it bade ! "Wliy did not lightnings fall 
 Upon my head, ere I should bless those who 
 Have robbed myself of all that is my due ? 
 "Why does not earth gape open as they kneel 
 Before God's altar, and Hell's compact seal 
 With semblance of religion ! May they feel 
 As I do now, and may the words they say 
 Haunt all their slumbers till their dying day !" 
 She wept no longer ; all her grief was turned 
 To bitter wrath, and all her spirit burned 
 Within her breast. There was an ivied stone 
 Stood by the church, it reared itself alone, 
 Apart from all around ; it might have been, 
 In ages past, a sign to mark the scene 
 Of some event, 'twas ruined now ; she leant 
 On it exhausted, as her passion's bent 
 Swelled deep within her. All her lineal hate
 
 LEAH. 105 
 
 Boiled in her veins ; the pious thoughts of late 
 Were all forgotten, and with conquering hand 
 Hate ruled her heart to bow to his command. 
 
 There was a hand upon the church's door, 
 There was a step upon the mossy floor. — 
 — 'Twas Eudolf ! — But he saw her not ; he came. 
 Leaving the joyous throng, to cool his frame 
 AVith the light air. The pageant that was past 
 Had made hkn sad ; his heart was overcast — 
 — Thinking of Leah. — Oh ! had he but known 
 An hour sooner she was innocent, 
 And all that was of falsehood was his own. 
 Would that last hour have been in marriage spent ? 
 He bared his brow. Amid the branches' shade. 
 The tiny zephyrs softly danced and played, 
 Cooling his heated head. " Ah yes, my soul. 
 Thou must seek comfort now ; thou'rt near the 
 
 goal 
 Thou must arrive at. Have I wrought aright ?
 
 106 LEAH. 
 
 "Will all these actions bear a stronger sight 
 Than that of man ? Will Heaven approve the 
 
 course 
 I have pursued ? May not the shade, remorse, 
 Deride my age, and darken that old home, 
 "Watch lest the angels' whispers near it come 
 To raise its tenour ? 'Midst that ritual 
 Methought I heard her well-known accents call, 
 I thought I saw her face, and her dark eye 
 Blazing in wrath, I thought I heard her cry !" 
 The Jewess saw him, and with death-pale face 
 Gazed steadfastly at him, nor moved her place, 
 But listened, silent. Tet was in her look, 
 In the wild beat with which her bosom shook, 
 A proof of passion only half concealed, 
 "Which would not shrink, but rather be revealed. 
 " Thou thought' st so, did'st thou ? Tet thou 
 
 did'st not shrink 
 From thy deep wickedness! Thou did'st not 
 
 think
 
 LEAH. 107 
 
 Then of thine oath ?" He turned and saw her. 
 
 High 
 Towered her form, sublime in majesty, 
 But 'twas her glance that would have lowered all — 
 All mortal, and compelled them down to fall 
 Owning her pow'r. " Is there a Grod ahove, 
 Who hateth treachery and honoureth love, 
 Tet can have sufferance of such perjury 
 As that which stamps the seal of hell on thee ?" 
 She raised her arm, that rounded arm and white, 
 "Which once so readily would oft entwine 
 With his, when he was precious in her sight. 
 Before dark falsehood dimmed the glad sunshine ! 
 " Thou wert the first," he said, " to break thine 
 
 oath ; 
 It is thy greed which hath undone us both. 
 Oh God ! that ever it should come to this ; 
 I thought thou wert too holy ! when my kiss 
 First pressed thy brow, how little did I deem, 
 Soon lust would rob the jewel of its gleam ;
 
 108 LEAH. 
 
 Its crown of brightness, purity !" Her head 
 She raised in scorn : " "What speak' st thou of?" 
 
 she said. 
 " Speak ? — I ? — Of that thou didst so soon accept, 
 Of that which rendered all my life bereft — 
 The bribe to buy departure." As he spoke 
 A sudden light on Leah's darkness broke : 
 This then had been a plot, or else some lie, 
 Deceiving him, had made him pass her by : — 
 But, he could deem her worldly ! " And you 
 
 thought 
 That I had taken it ! I could be bought 
 To lose my honour ! You could bring your brain 
 To dream that I had taken it, could stain 
 My spotless innocence !" — But then the sobs 
 Swelled in her bosom, and in tearing throbs 
 She strove to smother them ; in vain — in vain, 
 They would burst forth, with stronger force, again ! 
 " You — you on whom my hopes so firm were built, 
 Could think that I would bow to such base guilt !"
 
 LEAK. 109 
 
 "Leah, one instant !" — and a dreadful fear 
 Crept on his mind, " an instant— instant hear !" 
 Like some poor wayfarer whose footsteps wake 
 The deadly venom of the hidden snake, 
 She started, and her dark eyes fiercely blazed. 
 At him, in withering scorn, the orbits gazed — 
 " Hear thee ? for what ? — It surely ne'er can be. 
 That tliou, a Christian, should'st so stoop to me, 
 A Jewess, as with careful zeal to show 
 Why thou hast plunged me in the sea of woe ! 
 Christian— keep off! I cannot breathe the air 
 Thou breath' st, and live. As I can never share 
 Thy treachery, so can I never hope 
 To counter thee, or with thy mind to cope. 
 Dost thou not fear, when speech to thee is given. 
 To raise thy voice within the arc of heaven ? 
 Dar'st thou pollute, with thy dark, perjured breath. 
 The summer air, and lade the winds with death 
 Culled from thy Ups ? "What one of God's com- 
 mands
 
 110 LEAH. 
 
 Hast thou obeyed ? They bid thee not to steal — 
 
 Thou stol'dst my heart with unrelenting hands, 
 
 Nor all its blight could make thy spirit feel. 
 
 ' Thou shalt not lie' ? Thou swor'st an oath to me — 
 
 Thou hast it falsified — Can heaven see 
 
 Thy sin unmoved ? Will not the lightnings cast 
 
 In anger thence, thy traitor forehead blast 
 
 With the deep mark of shame ? Love's now too 
 
 late, 
 Eemains but death, and never-ending hate 
 T'ward thee and thine for ever. GTod, give ear 
 To what I pray. On him who standeth here 
 Shed nevermore thy grace. Ciu'st may'st thou be ; 
 (Disgrace to man, and worse than pest to me ;) 
 Thine be the blasting curse of endless woe, 
 For thee no tears of gentle pity flow ; 
 May fell remembrance dog thine every act ; 
 Thy heart for ever be with anguish racked ! 
 May all thy years increase in bitterness, 
 And may the vision of the fatherless.
 
 LEAH. Ill 
 
 Her bitter curse, cling to tliy seed and tliee, 
 In life, in death, and in eternity !" 
 " Lean, liave pity, mercy !" 
 
 " Not for ttee. 
 That stem refusal tliat thou gav'st to me, 
 I now return to thee. When I implored 
 Thee listen to me, with a scornful word. 
 And sneering tone thou bad'st me go — I went, — 
 And all my nature to my vengeance lent 
 Its whole existence. May the earth deny 
 Thee e'en a tomb, when thou dost sorrowing die, 
 And God — a home ! Heaven grant that I may 
 
 slake 
 My thirst for vengeance, though my heart should 
 
 break 
 During its course. Now, as in ancient days 
 My fathers ratified their oaths, I raise 
 My voice to God. Amen, to that I said, 
 Amen to all my curse upon thy head — 
 AmenP' she ceased ; and while her voice still rung
 
 112 LEAH. 
 
 Around, the cliorus in the cliurcli upsprung 
 In one long, deep " Amen" : it was, as they 
 Had ratified the curse pronounced that day ; 
 Deep on his heart those angered accents fell, 
 The past was Heaven to the future hell !
 
 LEAH. 113 
 
 Canto M. 
 
 TME ! thy long cycles saddening memo- 
 ries cliase 
 From every mind ; yet oft tliere is a 
 trace 
 
 Of bygone ills lurks in the bosom's shriiie. 
 
 Rendering sad the thoughts of all divine 
 
 And hopeful longings. As the rocky bed 
 
 Of some parched mountain spring shows what has 
 
 been, 
 So, deep-felt conscience rides the pillowed head 
 And casts a gangrene o'er the brightest scene. 
 Yet, Time, thy power is great ; we must allow 
 That many a grief doth to thy sceptre bow. 
 'Tis well perhaps that some should feel sin's baue ; 
 
 I
 
 114 LEAH. 
 
 That some should pay the price in aching pain ; 
 'Tis well perhaps that some few hearts should 
 
 know. 
 And feel the burden of their fellows' woe. 
 
 Sotne sins there are which never, never die, 
 There are some visions that can never fly. 
 There are some memories which can never fade 
 Till joy has been too long, alas ! delayed, 
 To yield their end. Rest ! where, oh ! where is 
 
 Eest? 
 "Where, where is comfort for the stricken breast ? 
 Is it on earth ? Here can we ever find 
 A shining halo for the troubled mind, 
 To light its darkness ? Doth earth's surface give 
 The greatest of all knowledge, how to live ? 
 Live in sweet purity, unknown to sin, 
 "With all the feelings of the soul within 
 Tree and unfettered. Doth earth yield this joy ? 
 Ah no ! — Its fleeting pleasures only cloy
 
 LEAH. 115 
 
 The appetite they pamper ; when the day 
 
 Of care and memory, (not so separate 
 
 As most would deem them), breaks, there is no ray 
 
 Of genuine goodness to assist their state. 
 
 Ah ! Time, 'tis true thou may'st deceive the soul 
 
 Part to forget, it never can the wJiole 1 
 
 Ever before the sinner's straining eyes, 
 
 The crimes of yore will darkly seem to rise ; 
 
 The life behind has left a lurid track, 
 
 And 'tis not his to send the visions back ! 
 
 'Twas summer prime. The wheaten ears were 
 
 growing 
 Yellow as gold, and all the world was glowing 
 In the rich sunlight. AU the woods were green : 
 Leafy the trees, and many a woody scene 
 AVas pleasant now, some shady, cool retreat, 
 A graceful shelter from the summer heat, 
 "WTiere the sweet tinkling water rambles ou 
 Over its pebbly bed, with low, soft sound,
 
 1\{^ LEAn. 
 
 Like the strange music of tlie dying swan, 
 
 Singing the while it flutters o'er the ground. 
 
 'Tis sweet to wander in the woodland's shade, 
 
 To lie stiU, dreaming, in some silent glade ; 
 
 To watch the rocking of the thick spun trees, 
 
 The king-ferns waving in the quiet breeze ; 
 
 To watch the flower, that blooms to die at even. 
 
 Send up its fragrance as a gift to Heaven ; 
 
 To listen lazily while half awake 
 
 To the sweet music of the happy day, 
 
 In that dear desert where no strangers break 
 
 The settled calm of nature's holiday ; 
 
 To watch, in measures, on the velvet grass, 
 
 Between the leaves stray beams of daylight pass. 
 
 Dimly down streaming, in a motey maze. 
 
 While the bright source is hidden from the gaze 
 
 By the green roof. Tes, SoHtude, thou art 
 
 To most, delightful, yet can memory's dart 
 
 Strike in thy presence. Still to those who have 
 
 No dark remembrances to quite enslave
 
 LEAH. 117 
 
 All happy retrospect, thou art most dear, 
 Then 'tis, that all the days of youth appear 
 To brighten bleak old age ; the sorrows past 
 Seem almost joys, we know that they are past ; 
 Perhaps we know for what those griefs were sent, 
 For what bright aim those fleeting tears were meant; 
 Those whom He loves He chastens, and we feel 
 This was the love He would to us reveal ; 
 Maybe that sorrow kept us from a sin, 
 It surely purified the heart within ; 
 We know 'tis true what cherished sayings tell. 
 In joy, in tears, " He doeth all things well." 
 Hest fosters love, and rest is ever pleasant, 
 Ever soothes down the anger that would rise. 
 Solaces equally the Prince and peasant. 
 And dries the tear-drops from a mourner's eyes. 
 Tes ! Rest is ever pleasant, and the weary 
 Seek in its bosom respite from their toil. 
 Seek its kind aid whenever life seems dreary. 
 And lets and hindrances their spirits foil !
 
 118 LEAH. 
 
 Higli Lerna's top was sunny as tlie rest, 
 Mantled witli gold, and its tall, misty crest 
 Bordered by vineyards sloping, sloping down 
 In slow descent. The dim-defined crown 
 "Was rarely seen ; cloudlets would chance to stray, 
 And round the summit circling, there would stay 
 Till others chanced there too. The vines were 
 
 beaming 
 Xow, red as gold ; the orchards bright were gleam- 
 ing 
 With the ripe fruit. Oh ! Summer, thou art fair ! 
 Thy beauty — wonderful ; thy power— rare ! 
 "When all the land is bathed in golden light, 
 When winds sigh softly through the balmy night, 
 When gaiety can reign alone, supreme, 
 And earth looks fairer than it e'er can seem 
 Apart from thee. Thy spirit rules the flowers. 
 And wild with playfulness roll by the hours 
 Of day and night. Yes ! 'tis a happy prime 
 Of earth's existence, the bright summer-time !
 
 LEAH. 119 
 
 At Lerna's base there stood, as there had been. 
 The house of Lorrenz ; five years' change of scene 
 Had left it standing as it stood of old : 
 Five years had passed, had onward ever rolled 
 Since last we saw it. The enduring strife 
 Of bitter nothingness, which we call life. 
 Had far progressed. Maybe these years to some 
 Had yielded earthly blessings, these oft come 
 To mortals, but — had Eudolf fared so well ? 
 Did he ne'er think of that dark Jewish spell 
 Thrown on his house ? of her whom he had left 
 "With broken heart, to live and die — bereft ? 
 To live, e'er wishing for that welcome death, 
 Grudging the sigh of every passing breath, 
 Longing, e'er longing, that dear death would 
 
 come, 
 To ope the vistas of the promised home. 
 And did there never flit across his mind 
 The memory of hours, now left beliind. 
 Though dim with age ? Ah ! who of man can tell
 
 120 LEAH. 
 
 Wliat tliouglits were liis, wliat fancies often fell 
 Upon his heart ? Save Him who gave him life, 
 And the dear partner of his love — his wife, 
 None knew. Still, oft how bitter are those cares 
 Which ne'er appear, although the spirit fares 
 The worse for silence. Oh ! save those who feel 
 And know these things, how little can we guess 
 The troublous thoughts calm faces oft conceal, 
 Seeking to smile away their bitterness ! 
 Oh ! rotten joys and smiles, that oft appear 
 While the poor s]nrit bows beneath its fear, 
 And load of sorrowing ! So Eudolf felt 
 He must look careless ; but his life had dealt 
 Death to his heart, and crushed beneath its load 
 Of heavy memory the voice that shewed 
 The road to better things. He still lived on. 
 As one who hears, but marks not, some old 
 
 sound ; 
 Life seemed a blank ; no more the sunshine 
 
 shone
 
 LEAH. 121 
 
 To scatter blessings on the path around. 
 
 Ser form still mocked his gaze. Her ringing curse 
 
 Seemed yet to thi'eat a coming evil, worse 
 
 Than all before. To outward eyes he seemed 
 
 Prosperous, happy, and his vineyards gleamed 
 
 Brightest of all, his orchards were the fairest, 
 
 Of all the flocks his were by far the rarest. 
 
 Tet still there loomed the shadow of the past ; 
 
 Still on his hearth the blight of time was cast ; 
 
 The spectre of Eemorse seemed still to mock 
 
 A nature, deadened by that one fell shock, 
 
 And Memory's troupe danced 'cross his throbbing 
 
 brain. 
 Dim, dim-heard voices like the pattering rain 
 Upon the window. " Eudolf, is it thou ? 
 Is that the mark of Cain upon thy brow ? 
 Art thou a murderer ? Man, thou art accurst ; 
 She loved thee truly, but thou wast the first 
 To judge the righteous, and from thy lips came 
 The words of sin and everlasting shame.
 
 122 LEAH. 
 
 E-uclolf, she cursed thee, and to her was given 
 The potent key to shut thee out from heaven !" 
 Thus seemed they ever, ever on to sing ; 
 Ever and ever in his ears would ring 
 The hateful threats of conscience. Wlien he closed 
 His eyes in sleep, and on his couch reposed, 
 That very sleep was waking ; when awake, 
 They haunted him again ; he could not break 
 The strong-forged chains of retrospect. Oh, thus 
 The sins, thought buried, rise and rise again. 
 Long hidden crimes are oft revealed to us, 
 Though we may think no traces can remain : 
 The grave has buried in its dark recess, 
 Perhaps for years, the record of a sin ; 
 Yet once it will reveal our wickedness, 
 Lay bare the evil, thought and worked within. 
 "We learn thus much, — To men all may be dark, 
 As the lost bones beneath the silent sod ; 
 But where there lives to man not one small spark, 
 'Tis clear as noon-day in the sight of God.
 
 LKAU. . 123 
 
 And oft he wished to leave the unwelcome voice, 
 Eouse all his manhood, and in youth rejoice ; 
 'Twas vain, 'twas vain ! The voice his spirit 
 
 daunted, 
 That deep, hot curse, his memory still haunted 
 As if 'twere yesterday ; — he saw her now, 
 He saw the anguish on her noble brow 
 Struggle with pride, until the former yielded, 
 Then, as with Titan's strength, the ban she 
 
 wielded, 
 "Weapon-like, which for ever was to keep 
 His days from pleasure, and his nights from sleep. 
 Sadly he paid the price of her young heart, 
 Deep in his bosom lay the piercing dart ; 
 His actions bore the impress of that past, 
 His mind unsettled as the whirlwind's blast. 
 
 Madelene knew this ; she alone could trace 
 The secret anguish lined upon his face ; 
 She, only, made him, if it were not glad.
 
 124 LEAH. 
 
 At least resigned to fate, and not so sad. 
 They had a child, a daughter ; and her name 
 Was one which had a strange and certain claim 
 On both their bosoms ; " Leali'' was she called — 
 A troublous name, in that it e'er recalled 
 The action of a sin. Fair Madelene ! 
 Thou wast too bright for such an one as he : 
 Thou flittedst sunlike 'cross the dullest scene ! 
 He loved thee ; yet, in truth, he loved not thee ! 
 
 It was the Harvest-Home. A merry crew 
 "Were celebrating holiday ; but few 
 Of aU the villagers were absent. Here 
 Were youth and age, commingled in a rout 
 Of gaiety and merriment, to cheer 
 The Autumn in, and play the Summer out. 
 Lorrenz had broached the largest cask of wine 
 His cellar held ; and 'twas a splendid quaff, 
 Wliich made the dullest greybeard's visage shine, 
 And he among the merriest could laugh.
 
 LEAH. 125 
 
 'Tis truly sunsliiue to the heart, to see 
 
 Such fill of happiness and jollity ! 
 
 The songs were ringing of the jocund band, 
 
 Who danced till giddy, till they scarce could stand 
 
 For want of breath. It was a holiday, 
 
 A right-down merry, and a festal day, 
 
 For 'twas the fifth bright anniversary 
 
 Of Eudolf 8 wedding. Many a friend had he 
 
 Among that throng, who with a loving heart 
 
 Joyed in his welfare ; nor did envy's dart 
 
 Eankle in any breast. He was not there 
 
 To hail his bridal day, the mirth to share, 
 
 So old Lorrenz, though feebled now by age, 
 
 Stood in his place, — the sire for the son ; 
 
 The sire, whose name upon fair memory's page, 
 
 Had been unstained since first his life begun. 
 
 And Madelene was there ; grown comelier now 
 
 Than e'er before. Smiles wreathed upon her brow, 
 
 The tiara of happiness ; not strange 
 
 AV hen Eudolf was not there, that she should change
 
 12G LEAH. 
 
 Her outward seeming to the world, for why 
 Should all the joy of life within lier die ? 
 Her darling child, the household's dearest pet, 
 "Was playing by her side. Since last we met 
 Changes had wrought a2:)ace, though plenty 
 
 crowned 
 Still, as it used to do, the fruitful ground. 
 
 Old Lorrenz spoke. — " My friends, thrice welcome 
 
 here, 
 More and more welcome each returning year, 
 Whilst grace like this is showered on our heads. 
 And bounteous Heaven still its plenty sheds 
 Upon our land. Our Eudolf is away ; 
 "Would that he could have seen you here to-day ! 
 But 'tis, I fear, too late. Vienna's city 
 He seeks ; his errand is a work of pity. 
 He goes to beg our gracious King recall 
 The thralling edict 'gainst the Jew^s." But all 
 Looked gloomily at this — " Then will they come,"
 
 LEAH. 127 
 
 Said one, " to live aud make a lasting home 
 In our dear A-illage?" 
 
 " Wherefore not ?" He turned, 
 Tliat proud old man, and in his heart there burned 
 A spark of grief " And wherefore not ?" he said, 
 " Why should the load of sin be on their head 
 Eather than ours ? Surely their race's stain 
 Has faded now, for centuries have rolled. 
 Long cycles passed, since that dark crime of old 
 Proved their great downfall, and their country's 
 
 bane. 
 There was a Jewish maiden, years ago, 
 T treated harshly, and beneath the blow 
 Her spirit sank. Would she were here again ! 
 Eepentance follows crime, and still remain 
 Dark thoughts to me !" And silent then he stood. 
 Unconscious of those round, in musing mood. 
 
 Slowly the crowd dispersed, and by degrees 
 The place was empty. Then did Madclene
 
 128 LEAH. 
 
 Sit waiting for lier husband ; every breeze, 
 She thought, must be him, till the branches green 
 "Waving, showed not. So, oft will fancy play 
 Upon our minds, and bear the truth away ! 
 The heart can school itself to any creed ; 
 The slightest wish, perhaps, can sow the seed 
 Of a long hope. Sudden there rose a sound 
 Of angry voices, and the air around 
 Was torn by noise ; it nearer, nearer came, 
 -And curious wonder filled her gentle frame. 
 " What sound is that ? Surely it is a crowd 
 Angered and turbulent ! — The rout grows loud, 
 And comes this way." Scarce had her footsteps 
 
 roved 
 Beyond their present rest, scarce had she moved, 
 When, stained by travel, and with dust defaced, 
 A woman hurried on, pursued and chased 
 By men behind ; but one short instant more, 
 And death had reigned that hunted being o'er. 
 A coarse serge robe a perfect form concealed,
 
 LEAH. 129 
 
 Scarce liicling, for witlial it but revealed 
 Different charms. But now dark terror reigned 
 Over her features, labour-worn, and stained 
 Almost by sorrow's touch. She quickly passed 
 To Madelene ; her enemies were behind, 
 But woman's sympathy was instant cast 
 O'er Madeleua's half-bewildered mind. 
 Where is the woman's heart that does not feel 
 A pang to see her sister in distress ? 
 Almost unconsciously there seems to steal 
 Over her heart the touch of tenderness. 
 No matter if her brooding fancies cherish 
 Some hatching quarrel, just to be revealed, 
 Malice, revenge, alike will instant perish, 
 And the heart's throne to subtle kindness yield. 
 Grief fosters love, and sorrow's hard-linked chain 
 Tightens the bonds of love and unity ; 
 Except affectiun nothing can remain 
 "Where thou dost reign, diviuest Sympathy !
 
 130 LEAK. 
 
 On came tlie villagers : " Pair lady, give 
 This woman up ! A Jewess may not live 
 An liour within our province." And among 
 The foremost rank of that excited throng 
 Stood the apostate, Bertolf. " Madelene, 
 Yield up the cursed Jewess ! Thou hast seen 
 More of their race than likes thee ; 'tis the law 
 Sanctions our quest, and we must wait no more. 
 Yield her to us !" 'Twas said in harsh command, 
 But Madelene' s high spirit could withstand 
 Still greater force ; her womanhood, her pride 
 Swelled uppermost, and boldly she replied : 
 " Never, to you ! you have no legal right 
 Thus to pursue her, and before my sight 
 Afflict her thus ; your warrant, signed and sealed 
 I first must see, ere I can dare to yield 
 Her up to ye !" With baffled rage he shook ; 
 She met his eye with an unshrinking look ; 
 A righteous cause strengthens the feeblest arm, 
 And gives the smallest act a heavenly charm.
 
 LEAH. 131 
 
 " Be it so then ; and we must first obtain 
 This needless warrant " — Bertolf spoke again : 
 " See that thou renderest not, by word or deed, 
 Food, rest, or comfort to this woman's need, 
 Or thou must answer for't. I warn thee thus. 
 For in our wishes thou hast now balked us. 
 But shalt not so again." Away they strode 
 With fell? intent, and in a murderous mood, 
 Seeking a life. But as they waned from sight, 
 And Madelene gazed on the sorry plight 
 Of the poor Jewess, love reigned in her heart, 
 Dispelled mistrust, and bade all pride depart ; 
 Love swelled in all the bearings of her soul, 
 Ajid rising burst beyond the mind's control. 
 "Poor maid," she said, " thou'rt thirsty ? Yonder 
 
 well 
 Will yield relief. Stay — doubt is infidel 
 To human love." She ran in anxious haste 
 Ajid loosed the bucket ; but a single taste 
 Was all the woman needed. " Thanks, thou hast
 
 132 LEAn. 
 
 Some kindly feelings," — and her eyes slie cast 
 O'er Madelene's figure : sudden change 
 Spread o'er her features. " Heaven ! is it so ? 
 Is she at last within my vision's range ? 
 My soul, thou art bereaved of half thy woe !" 
 As she thus spoke there was a deadened sound 
 Of horse's hoofs upon the turfy ground ; 
 Madelene sprung to welcome Kudolf home, 
 All doubt was past, she knew that he had come ! 
 But as she passed the Jewess raised her head 
 "With timid glance — 
 
 — Heavens ! had the quiet dead 
 Yielded a spirit ? For that noble face 
 Showed in each lineament, each faded trace 
 Of former beauty, still the same contour, 
 The face of one, thought gone for evermore 
 Beyond our world. 'Twas Leah, but how changed 
 Was now her form from that which once had 
 
 ranged 
 By Eudolf s side, basked in the sun of love,
 
 LEAH. 133 
 
 Of heart-felt liappiness ; it ne'er would rove 
 In such deep joy again ! She wildly flung 
 Her long hair back. " From whence hast thou 
 
 upsprung, 
 Thou Fiend, to torture me ? Hast thou not dealt, 
 O Heaven, too hardly with me ? I have felt 
 Thy blasting anger. — Ah ! why should I stay 
 Longer my haud ? And she I saw to-day 
 Was once my rival ! Oh ! kind Heaven, forgive 
 My prayer for death, for I must live, must live 
 To work my vengeance ! — Stop, they must not find 
 Me here, for surely feel I, in his mind 
 My memory still bides on — I hear their tread — 
 "Where can I hide ! Ah ! yonder straw-thatched 
 
 shed 
 Will yield a shelter." Back she slowly strayed, 
 Slowly and painfully, for toil delayed 
 Free motion. — Now their voices filled the air, 
 Rudolfs and Madelene's. " How didst thou fare 
 At Court, Eudolf ?" She leant upon his arm,
 
 134 LEAH. 
 
 Clinging to iiim, as if from every harm 
 He was her shield. " Mine own beloved wife, 
 Far beyond all my hopes, for now all strife 
 Between our people and the Jews is o'er, 
 And dove-eyed peace reigns o'er us evermore. 
 Leah, my child !" — The little infant sprang 
 In loving eagerness to kiss his face ; 
 The echoes with her baby welcome rang, 
 ISTor on his countenance was now a trace 
 Of secret jiaiu. They sat upon the ground, 
 She gazing up at him in love profound, 
 Unutterable. Would'st know the words they 
 
 said ? 
 Would'st know the gladness that was o'er them 
 
 shed? 
 I cannot tell it, for my feeble pen, 
 Is powerless to thus attempt again 
 To mirror love's deep truth. But 'twas an hour, 
 This of reunion, more rij)e in power 
 Than years of other scenes. Long sat they there.
 
 LEAH. 135 
 
 Talking of that for which he left his home, 
 For while his joy fulness her heart could share, 
 She too was thankful he, at last, had come. 
 
 And Leah looked on them, and spell-bound heard 
 That which they spoke ; each, each succeeding 
 
 word 
 Impressed her deeper, till, at length, she stept 
 Forth from the shed, and in deep sUence crept 
 Nearer them, though behind. Did He above 
 Eemember all her sorrow, and her love 
 Too early blighted, love in sunshine nourish'd, 
 Tet nipped in bud before the blossom flourish' d ? 
 But howsoe'er it be, long doubts and fears 
 Were half unseated from their ancient throne ; 
 The swelling eyes could scarce restrain the tears 
 That would have made the spirit all their own. 
 
 But as they stirred, she rose again to seek 
 A hiding-place. — " Oh ! Eudolf, I must speak
 
 136 LEAH. 
 
 To thee of somewhat else," — and Madelene 
 Looked all around her ; nowhere could be seen 
 Her she had left. " A Jewess hither came 
 To-day, pursued." — 
 
 " A Jewess ? Know'st her name ? 
 It may be Leah, ris'n to cheer my gloom," 
 Ci-ied Eudolf breathlessly. " Pursued ! by 
 
 whom ?" 
 " Alas ! I know not, though I left her here 
 I see her not again, and much I fear 
 She hath departed. Stay — she may have sought 
 The house within." — " My Madelene, well 
 
 thought !" 
 Cried Eudolf. " Yes, I would this woman see. 
 One of her race may clear the mystery 
 Of a past life." They rose and entered. She 
 Who had them heard thus far, how did she feel ? 
 Did not her heart grow tenderer witliin ? 
 Did Heaven's influence o'er her spirit steal, 
 Cleansing it from the burden of all sin ?
 
 LEAH. 137 
 
 " All ! me," slie cried, and her poor, throbbing 
 
 breast 
 Told how too deeply dwelt his memory there, 
 " Where is the end, and where the hoped-for 
 
 rest ? 
 Ah me ! my life I may no longer bear ! 
 I may not love him, love is past for ever ! 
 'Twere crime to look in love upon him now ! 
 Oh ! Eudolf, why did God our spirits sever ? 
 "Why bear'st thou still the brand upon thy brow ? 
 I cannot love, I cannot love ; thou hast 
 Destroyed, oh Fate, my life ! No more, no more 
 Can I look on in hope, for Iwpe is past. 
 Past when the vision of my youth was o'er. 
 Yet one remembrance lives. "Would I could see 
 And clasp that form by evil un defiled, 
 That I could mark with sweet anxiety 
 Her father's features in my Eudolf s child. 
 My Eudolf, mine. Yes, though we live apart, 
 Must love, must die, untended by each other,
 
 138 LEAH. 
 
 There is in thine, as in my longing heart, 
 A tiny voice no change of scene can smother. 
 I feel 'tis true ; our never ripened youth 
 Passed Kke a summer shower soon away, 
 Yet, like the rain, it left the seed of truth, 
 Setarded, but not banished from the day." 
 Thus, in a tone that would have forced a tear 
 Prom heart of adamant, she built the bier 
 Of future hope ; but one more stroke was needed, 
 And heavenly light to her dark gloom succeeded. 
 
 The little Leah, Eudolf's only child, 
 
 Had wandered from her mother, and in wild 
 
 Amazement she was gazing. Was it fate 
 
 Made Leah turn to where the infant sate ? 
 
 She turned, she looked, (" Kind Father, thou hast 
 
 sent 
 A gracious answer, and I am content — 
 It must be Eudolf's daughter !) Hither come, 
 My pretty child, tell me, is this your home ?"
 
 LEAn. 
 
 139 
 
 Tearless tlie little one ran to her arms, 
 
 The Jewess' face aroused no harsh alarms 
 
 "Within her mind. The tiny treble voice 
 
 Of the young infant seemed like cherub's singing 
 
 To Leah, as if it bade her soul rejoice, 
 
 Its way to bHss it was already winging. 
 
 " Yes, I live here." Leah, where was thy hate? 
 
 Did thy deep vengeance at those words abate ? 
 
 Did all the cherished hate and hope of years 
 
 Wreck in a moment ? Did no envious fears 
 
 Play on thy fancy ? No, all hatred slept, 
 
 The fountain of her pity flowed again ; 
 
 Past sins were buried, and she wept, she wept. 
 
 Sobbing as though 'twould ease her spirit's pain. 
 
 " What is jowc name, my darling ? and is he, 
 
 Eudolf, your father ?" (One short breathless 
 
 minute, 
 Hours of beinff passed in sympathy. 
 Bearing the stamp of happiness within it.) 
 " Leah's my name" — she would have added more.
 
 140 LEAH. 
 
 But she was hindered — " Memory is not o'er 
 Then, in his heart. My darling, come to me, 
 Has he e'er spoken of that Leah, she 
 Who knew him once ?" 
 
 " Oh ! yes, I always pray 
 For her before I sleep." As dawning day 
 Shines on night's countenance, on Leah's face 
 There shone again a strange ethereal grace. 
 She clasped the infant wildly to her heart, 
 She strained her close, and the long rankling dart 
 Was now plucked forth ; then at that long, long 
 
 sigh 
 Drawn from the depths of her young, ardent soul. 
 The Eecording Angel blotted years gone by, 
 Part quite effaced, and dimmed the darkening 
 
 whole ! 
 
 There is more joy in Heaven, the Scriptures say, 
 When first repentance sheds its hallowing ray. 
 Than if the myriads of saints uprose,
 
 LEAH. 141 
 
 Those who had buffeted life's hardest blows 
 Unmoved, unshocked ; had seen the day-spring's 
 
 light 
 Steadily beam upon them through the night, 
 The long night of their travail. Joy was given 
 To the bright ranks of Cherubims in Heaven 
 At that poor Maid's forgiveness, as she strove 
 To work her glory, and to prove her love ! 
 
 She tore herself away — " For me, too pure, 
 
 Thou darling child" — and with quick hand she gave 
 
 A rosary into her grasp. " Be sure 
 
 Thou giv'st this to thy father, and him tell 
 
 ' Leah forgives him ;' bid him now dispel 
 
 All memory of her in her lonely grave ! — 
 
 Heaven ! thou hast heard, and thou wilt bless me 
 
 now ; 
 Thou hast removed my labour from my brow, 
 And I will wander to the western home. 
 The Land of Promise, where no more can come
 
 142 LEAH. 
 
 Trouble and sorrow." On that wan, pale face 
 Beamed God's own light, — and she had left the 
 place. 
 
 The child was wonder-filled ; her young life's day 
 Knew not such agony as Leah's. " Stay," 
 She cried — " kind Lady ;" but the echoes woke 
 Sullen response to all the words she spoke. 
 " Father !" — and on the threshold Eudolf stood, 
 Fair Madelene beside him. " "Would I could 
 Have found her, Madelene ; that I could see 
 Her face once more, and hear her say to me 
 That she forgave me. I could happier die 
 If I could help her from her poverty. — 
 What say you, child ?" 
 
 " There was a lady here 
 She gave me this for you." 
 
 " Is Leah so near ?" 
 Brake from his lips. " I know this rosary, 
 She snatched it from me on my wedding day.
 
 LEAH. 143 
 
 Wliere is the lady, cMld, wliich way went she ? 
 False pride no longer bids my heart delay." 
 
 " I see her, see her !" Soon as they espied, 
 They sped their footsteps quickly to her side. 
 Her limbs were weary, and her strength was gone, 
 Long days and nights had worn her to the bone ; 
 She had not wandered far. They raised her form, 
 AYeakened by reason of life's heavy storm. 
 
 There was one long, long spirit-yielding look. 
 One silent tremor both their bosoms shook, 
 And all was over, evermore. Their love 
 Was past in one sense, yet in heaven above 
 It still was clear as is the noonday sun, 
 In that ^ade glass love's sands would never run. 
 " Ah, Madeleue !" whispered that angel heart, 
 " My fathers call me, and I must depart ! 
 See, Madelene, I take his hand, but 'tis 
 To place it in thine own, may Heaven's bliss
 
 144! LEAH. 
 
 Be yours for ever." 
 
 " Leah, thou must not die ! 
 Once more on earth our spirits meet together : 
 Oh ! let death at our glad reunion fly, 
 Nor leave his sting the flowers of life to wither." 
 One look she gave him. " It can never be ! 
 I am too happy in my bhss to live ; 
 What use were now all earthly gems to me ? 
 I seek a nobler joy than they can give !" 
 Her head sank down upon that once-loved breast. 
 " Eudolf, farewell ! my blessing on thee still ! 
 I am too happy far to live ; my rest 
 The thoughts of Heaven seem gently to distil." 
 
 There was a sound, a heavy, moving tread 
 Of hurryiflg footsteps ; then swelled loud and dread 
 The cry of voices, and upon the scene 
 Eushed Bertolf with his myrmidons : " Obscene 
 Jewess, thou'rt here," — through his clenched teeth 
 he hissed,
 
 LEAH. 145 
 
 Here is the warrant for thy capture, list !" 
 But Rudolf tui'ned with anger in his look, 
 " Hush, Bertolf, hush thy voice ! I cannot brook 
 This rage, for thy poor, helpless \'ictim lying 
 Here in my arms, is in her sorrow dying !" 
 
 But scarce had Rudolf syllabled his name 
 When Leah raised her almost fainting frame, 
 Eoused with strange energy. " Let me but see 
 Tliis Bertolfs face"— she looked— "'Tis he! 'tis he !" 
 She cried aloud, " Nathan, and thou art there ? 
 Why dost thou not thy race's troubles share ? 
 Attend ye all ! This man ye so have cherished, 
 Before his nature had in falsehood perished. 
 Was but a Jew !" Then on that wondering throng 
 Fell the conviction of her heinous wrong 
 At this man's hands. "A Jew!" exclaimed the 
 
 crowd, 
 " A Jew, thou, Bertolf, Nathan !" — and aloud 
 Broke the deep curse upon him. On his brow 
 
 L
 
 146 LEAH. 
 
 Thick drops of chilly sweat were clustering now, 
 
 His face was livid, for the truth, now told. 
 
 Could a long chain of mysteries imfold ! 
 
 But one more effort ere his doom was cast, 
 
 One act of hatred, though it be his last. 
 
 The crowd looked threatening at him. " Friends, 
 
 she Zze«?." 
 " I do not lie ! I stand before my God ! 
 'Twas by thy hand the old man, Abram, died ; 
 "Well wer't for thee if thou his path had trod." 
 All chance was over now. With a fierce bound. 
 Drawing a knife, he sprang across the ground. 
 " This be thy fate, she-devil, like his, who 
 Tried to keep from me all my well-earned due !" 
 Bright gleamed the dagger, but his arm was stayed 
 By Eudolf 's, and the deadly point delayed ; 
 Forced back by crowds, his hands together bound, 
 His sin found out, he glared on all around — 
 " Fools that ye were ! tliis is the end of all 
 Tour boasted confidence, which yet could fall
 
 LEAH. 147 
 
 On a Jew's wliisper. — " One witliin his reach 
 Ordered the desperate man to check his speech. 
 
 Then shrilly piercing was the Jewess' cry, 
 
 " The God of Heaven speaks to me from on high, 
 
 As Jael smote the tyrant Sisera's head 
 
 So I to thee ! Thy villain course is sped : 
 
 Die, traitor, die!" — and quick as thought she drew 
 
 A poniard from her girdle-brace, and ilew 
 
 To work her vengeance. But a higher power 
 
 Than mortal arm restrained her in that hour — 
 
 She loosed the weapon. " Thine, oh ! Heaven, thine 
 
 Is all the vengeance, and Thou wilt repay 
 
 AU that Thou deemest due to me and mine ; 
 
 Thine is the hour, and Tliine the appointed day !" 
 
 A more than earthly beauty had she now, 
 
 A heavenly halo seemed to crown her brow. 
 
 Alas ! alas ! 'twas but the last strong force 
 
 Of vital energy's fast-failing course. 
 
 She staggered, fell — 'twas in Kudolf s embrace ;
 
 148 LEAH, 
 
 He gazed once more upon her dying face, 
 
 He slowly sank upon his bended knees 
 
 To give her dying moments greater ease ; 
 
 Upon her features played a cherub light^ — 
 
 " Farewell, my EudoLf, we wiU meet once more — 
 
 My days are ended, I have fought my fight." 
 
 Her eyes slow closed, and Leah's life was o'er ! 
 
 AVas she not happier now ? Aye, happier far 
 Than e'er on earth. Her once so beaming star 
 Had set, had waned ; but though to mortal sight 
 All now was past, was buried in the night. 
 Far, far away, upon a happier shore. 
 She ransomed lives in joy for evermore. 
 All the dark clouds of earth had passed away, 
 All the dull shades which dimmed her youthful 
 
 May, 
 And she was happy. Tet a little time 
 And all her friends would reach that distant clime 
 Where she now waited them. Oh ! thou most fair
 
 LEAH. 119 
 
 Of earthly fair ones, grander joys to share 
 Is now thy glorious future ! Thou most pure, 
 Who couldst such bitterness of woe endure, 
 Blest be thy sleep ! Thy spirit from its clay, 
 In one loud burst of music wings its way 
 Beyond Heaven's firmament ! Farewell ! Farewell ! 
 Thy sweet forgiveness tolled thy dying knell. 
 Blest angels guard thy soul ! Thy bitter woes 
 Are lost for ever in the deep repose 
 Of joy, seraphic bliss ! Once more, farewell ! 
 Farewell to thee, since thou hast ceased to dwell 
 Among us here, and never more can sorrow 
 Dim the calm sweetness of thy bright to-morrow !
 
 /
 
 MINOR POEMS.
 
 /
 
 MINOR POEMS. 
 
 golaiulfiurli 
 
 A LEGEND OF THE RHINE. 
 
 I. 
 
 ! Trumpeters set forward 
 And blazon tlirougli the land 
 The Eoyal Proclamation, 
 Signed with the King's own hand ; 
 Bid all the mighty warriors 
 
 Flock forth to Charlemagne, 
 And raise the Eoyal standard 
 For the march against fair Spain.
 
 154 EOLANDSECK. 
 
 II. 
 
 Go by the north, where Denmark 
 Its icy shores displays. 
 
 And where in lofty glory- 
 Stands the castle of Malaise ; 
 
 Go by the northern Baltic, 
 By the fields of stainless snow, 
 
 Where the everlasting plains of ice 
 In whirling mazes glow ! 
 
 Go to the eastern Frangia, 
 The East of the sunlit land, 
 
 To the knights of Malerna towers, 
 The chiefs of the knightly band. 
 
 III. 
 
 And go to the East, where the Euxine 
 Eolls his sluggish tide from the shore, 
 
 And the beach is strewn with the fragments 
 Of wrecks, that will sail no more !
 
 EOLAXDSECK. 155 
 
 And herald down fair Grallia, 
 
 From the bitter Northern seas 
 To the base of the giant mountains, 
 
 The snow-capped Pyrenees ; 
 Where in the golden sunlight, 
 
 Lies the boundary of Spain ; 
 Where bud the brightest vineyards. 
 
 The vintage of Champagne. 
 
 IV. 
 
 And through the sands of Europe, 
 
 Cross Holland's murky plain, 
 Across the Alps' high summits, 
 
 Through Grermany, to Maine ; 
 Through the sunny plains of Tuscany, 
 
 Down to the rushing Po, 
 Beneath the sun of Italy, 
 
 The sun of fiercest glow. 
 To where the bay of Naples 
 
 Gleams in the morning light,
 
 150 ROLAJVDSECK, 
 
 Where the fire-breathing mountain 
 Eolls its thunders through the night ; 
 
 Up to the icy Baltic, 
 
 Up to the freezing north ! 
 
 To bear the kingly message 
 Went the Eoyal heralds forth. 
 
 V. 
 
 Where o'er the swan-like bosom 
 
 Of the ever- running Ehine, 
 The bright green hills of Drachenfels, 
 
 With golden vineyards shine ; 
 On the towers of a castle 
 
 The fleeting sunbeams gleam, 
 A massy granite castle. 
 
 Which overlooks the stream. 
 And as the day departing, 
 
 Its dying radiance shed, 
 It tinged the hoary turrets 
 
 With a glow of fiery red ;
 
 EOLANDSECK. 157 
 
 And on the violet liills above, 
 
 Amid the blooming thyme, 
 Sat Hildegunde and Eoland, 
 
 And listened to the chime 
 Of Nonnenwerth's sweet abbey bells, 
 
 That swelled out loud amaiu, 
 And then, as if exhausted, 
 
 Ceased their music once again. 
 
 YI. 
 
 That castle on the Drachenfels 
 
 Was Hildegunde's abode ; 
 And many a mailed warrior 
 
 Its ringing courtyard trode : 
 And her father ruled the vaUey 
 
 That stretches green below, 
 The Lord of the ' Sieben Gebirge,' 
 
 The knight of the unbent bow. 
 And never castle held a form 
 
 In beauty could compare
 
 158 EOLANDSECK. 
 
 "Witli the smiling Hildegunda, 
 She was sq wondrous fair ! 
 
 yii. 
 
 And Eoland was her lover, 
 
 The chief Paladin of Trance, 
 The hero of the golden shield, 
 
 The hero of the lance ; 
 Pirst in the ranks of chivalry, 
 
 rirst in the brunt of war, 
 TJnconquered, save by woman's eyes 
 
 On fail" Nonnenwerth shore. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 The Eoyal proclamation 
 
 Had been heard that very day, 
 
 And that same night, on his brave steed, 
 Eode Eoland far away. 
 
 But ere he went he craved a boon, 
 Upon his bended knee,—
 
 EOLANDSECK. 159 
 
 — " My Hildegimde, my Hildegunde, 
 
 Now listen, Sweet, to me. 
 Before I lieuce depart to fight, 
 
 And war's liard toils to share, 
 Give me a dear love-token, mine, 
 
 A tress of nut-brown hair." 
 And tremblingly she gave it him. 
 
 And breathed a last " Adieu," 
 And in the purple evening 
 
 Soon his form was lost to view : 
 And long she gazed after him. 
 
 And watched his fading track. 
 And heaving many a deep-drawn sigh 
 
 She sadly wished him back. 
 
 IX. 
 
 But a long year passed slow away, 
 
 And Koland never came ; 
 And she'd wander on the Drachenfek, 
 
 And breathe to them his name.
 
 160 EOLANDSECK, 
 
 Till one dark niglit a pilgrim 
 
 Knocked at the castle gate, 
 And craved a kind admission, 
 
 !Por most wretclied was Lis state. 
 
 X. 
 
 They brought the palmer to the hall ; 
 
 " Say, stranger, whence you come, 
 And how, in such a sorry plight, 
 
 Tou be so far from home ? 
 
 XI. 
 
 "I've come, fair maid, from Eoncesvalles, 
 
 And the sunny fields of Spain, 
 To my native hills of Germany, 
 
 And my home upon the Maine." 
 *'From Spain!" cried Hildegunda, 
 
 And her eyes grew bright again, 
 *' Hast seen Eoland the Paladin, 
 
 In the far off land of Spain ?"
 
 EOLANDSECK. 101 
 
 XII. 
 
 " Alas ! alas ! Poor Eolaud ? Yes, 
 
 He stood hard by my side, 
 And on a pile of corpses 
 
 The gallant warrior died : 
 'IVas his good right arm only 
 
 That kept the foe at bay 
 From sunrise in the morning 
 
 Till the fading of the day."— 
 But down fell Hildegunda, 
 
 Bent down the golden head, 
 She lay all stiff and motionless, 
 
 She lay as lie the dead : 
 And down the pilgrim's rugged cheek 
 
 There stole a silent tear, 
 And he softly murmured to himself, 
 
 " Poor girl, she loved the Peer." 
 
 il
 
 162 EOLANDSECK. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Hast thou ever seen tlie lily 
 
 Beaten down with heavy rain. 
 So it was with Hildegunda, 
 
 For she never smiled again. 
 But when her life flowed back to her, 
 
 She would that iustant go 
 To take the veil at Nonnen worth, 
 
 That lies so far below. 
 Nor could her household stay her, 
 
 Nor her father's pleading voice ; 
 A life secluded, and apart, 
 
 Would henceforth be her choice. 
 " Father, farewell," she murmured, 
 
 " Tour parting love I crave ; 
 You'll never more see Hildegunde, 
 
 I only wish the grave." 
 Then she went her from the castle 
 
 Beyond the studded gate.
 
 ROLAXDSECK. 1G3 
 
 Tears were standing in her eyes, and slow 
 
 And saddened was her gait : 
 Then down the rock she wandered, 
 
 To Jfonnenwerth's fair shore, 
 Where the mighty Ehine was dashing, 
 
 "With a low continuous roar. 
 She thought of him who loved her once, 
 
 Who now was lying dead 
 On Eoncesvalles fatal field ; 
 
 Would she had died instead ! 
 But ere another day rolled on 
 
 Its swiftly winged hours, 
 Fair Hildegunda was a nun 
 
 In Nonnenwerth's grey towers. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 And when brown Autumn came apace. 
 
 And all the hills were briclit. 
 And the grain grew golden as the fire 
 
 That lights dark J^tna's height ;
 
 164 EOLAISTDSECK. 
 
 And the year was slowly waning, 
 
 And tlie summer had declined, 
 And the yellow leaves upon the trees 
 
 Fell with the faintest wind ; 
 One glorious autumn evening. 
 
 There rode a mailed knight, 
 "Weary, and tired, along the path 
 
 Which leads up to the height : 
 And he was the very Eoland, 
 
 Who the Pilgrim old had said 
 Tell slain on Eoncesvalles field 
 
 Among the heaps of dead : 
 And he blew his horn without the gates. 
 
 And he thundered the oak beside ; 
 And it was Eoland of the shield. 
 
 Come back to claim his bride ! 
 
 xy. 
 
 But when he heard the fatal news. 
 
 That she was his no more. 
 Lost in the Church's close embrace ; 
 
 He felt that all was o'er !
 
 EOLAia)SECK. 165 
 
 Then a vow the warrior registered, 
 
 That never would he roam 
 Tar from Nonnenwerth's fair nunnery, 
 
 His Hildegunda's home ; 
 That every eve at sunset. 
 
 When her window oped for air, 
 He might catch a glimpse of her dear form, 
 
 The face to him so fair. 
 And on Eolands-Eck, that frowns so high 
 
 Above the whirling foam, 
 He built a noble castle, 
 
 That might henceforth be his home. 
 
 ^fci^ 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Through long, long years he kept his watch 
 
 Unceasing day by day. 
 Gazed for her window's opening. 
 
 As each sunset died away ; 
 And he'd look in her direction, 
 
 Tin he saw the well loved face ;
 
 166 EOLANDSECK. 
 
 And he'd sigh, and pray to Heaven 
 
 For a speedy resting place, 
 When his sorrows would be numbered, 
 
 And his sins would be confest, 
 And his tired heart have respite. 
 
 And his weary soul have rest : 
 And he'd think of Hildegunda, 
 
 Till her form would seem to rise ; 
 Till a choking swelled up in his throat, 
 
 And the tears stood in his eyes. 
 So in the lapse of years his life 
 
 Began to ebb its sands. 
 And nerveless was the arm once strone-. 
 
 And weakened were the hands. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 A nun on Nonnenwerth's fair isle, 
 
 A much loved sister, died, 
 'Twas Hildegunde, the golden-haired, 
 
 IVonnenwerth's fairest pride.
 
 ROLi\JSDSECK. 167 
 
 And as the notes of tlie burial chant 
 
 Came floating on the air, 
 Roland was carried out, upon 
 
 A pile of velvet fair : 
 And he heard the name of Hildegunde 
 
 Come floating on the breeze ; 
 And he gazed once more on Drachenfels, 
 
 Upon its fields and trees. 
 A smile of heavenly beauty- 
 Lit the dying warrior's face, 
 And his soul grew gladdened, as it drew 
 
 So nigh its resting-place. 
 He murmured, " Hildegunda, 
 
 In death I come to thee ! 
 We'll never, never part again, 
 
 Through all eternity. 
 I see thee now, my darling, 
 
 Beck'ning to me cross the tide" — 
 And with her name upon his lips, 
 
 The glorious hero died.
 
 SpitHph 0it '' ^tciii^iuair' Jaiflifjait, 
 
 ND thou art here, wlio but a short time 
 since 
 Swayed thousands by a motion of thy 
 hand; 
 Nipt in the bud thy glorious promise dies, 
 As Time turns round his ever-running sand. 
 
 Guiltless of ever an unmanly thought, 
 Love for thy country was thy only crime, 
 
 One of thy many graces, till thy name 
 Was wiped for ever from the page of Time !
 
 ox "stonewall" JACKSON. 1G9 
 
 Slain by tlie men, who would have gladly died 
 To save ttee from a moment's anxious thought, 
 
 Willing to die, if by that sacrifice 
 
 Thee back to earth they could again have brought . 
 
 For ah ! thy country needs thy utmost aid. 
 Too soon swept oif to be of lasting good : 
 
 Freedom departed, what is life but death. 
 
 When in the veins runs proud, yet servile, 
 blood ! 
 
 Why should remorseless death have borne thee off? 
 
 Thy stay on earth was like a fleeting dream ; 
 Mortals will ever trample on the great. 
 
 And brightest gold but worthless tinsel deem. 
 
 The noblest record thou hast left behind, 
 The brightest jewel in thy crown of fame. 
 
 Is the warm love of many a humble heart 
 That thrilled so gladly at thy welcome name !
 
 170 ON " stonewall" jacksok. 
 
 Hushed in the sleep of death thou liest now, 
 And nerveless is that once so powerful hand, 
 
 Yet thy short life has gained a noble fame, 
 Won thee a place among the Heroes' band. 
 
 Sleep calmly on, till Time itself is gone, 
 In thy aU honoured and last resting place ; 
 
 Sleep till the trumpet rouse thee from the dead. 
 Thou noblest pattern of a noble race !
 
 •R 
 
 IFE is a summer's day. Sweet infancy 
 
 heralds the dawning, 
 And all its varying changes are nought 
 but the phases of nature 
 Under an opposite form. She guides man's steps 
 
 through his sojourn 
 Here upon earth, till he dies, and life departs as 
 
 the daylight 
 Fades into twilight and night. The noon is the 
 
 season of manhood, 
 Full of fresh vigour and strength like a giant 
 roused from his slumber.
 
 172 LIFE. 
 
 Then comes the prime of life, and the sun goes 
 
 down in his glory- 
 As the once powerful man declines in his strength 
 
 and his vigour. 
 Then comes the grave-like night, and hid in, its 
 
 deepest recesses 
 Men are as far from light as night is opposed to the 
 
 morning. 
 Then dawns another day, but not Hke the last ever- 
 fading, 
 Never to cease its light while eternity rolls on its 
 ages.
 
 SJilujji 
 
 A.EEWELL, Farewell, ye transient hopes 
 that fled 
 So quickly when the clays of youth had 
 sped ! 
 Farewell to life, my heart is with the dead, 
 
 Yet still I trust. 
 
 All I most loved is past, for ever past ! 
 Over my coming years a cloud is cast ; 
 Oh ! but the brightest sunshine fleeth fast ! 
 
 Yet still I trust.
 
 174 TEUST. 
 
 Hope, vdlt thou come to cheer my spirit yet ? 
 Hope, wilt thou teach that spirit to forget 
 All that of sorrow it hath ever met ? 
 
 Tor still I trust. 
 
 Father, wilt lend to me a kindly ear, 
 Father, wilt ease my spirit from its fear ; 
 Send but thy grace to make its dwelling here ; 
 
 On Thee I trust.
 
 §fii{ ^^iijit ^ontf. 
 
 HEOTIGH the glittering mass of the 
 sunbeams I fly, 
 And dash pearls from the briny spray, 
 'Mid the regions of clouds my pinions I ply 
 O'er the track of the azure way. 
 
 The low Zephyrs sigh through my robes of light, 
 
 Softly wafting me over the sea, 
 And I sleep on the winds through the silver 
 night, 
 
 Hushed off by their sweet lullaby
 
 176 THE SPIEIT SONG. 
 
 I flit like a bird o'er the regions of eartli, 
 And my soft whispered counsels oft shed 
 
 A comforting hoj)e, or a burst of mirth, 
 To cherish the drooping head. 
 
 I ride on the crests of the white-topped waves 
 As they burst in foam on the shore, 
 
 And I dive to the depths of the Ocean caves 
 Midst the din of the tempest's roar. 
 
 When clouds hang low o'er a mourner's soul 
 And the future seems barren and dead, 
 
 And the billows of sorrow begin to roll 
 Their tide o'er the weary head — 
 
 Then I steal like a thought to the troubled 
 breast, 
 
 And whisper the comfort of Heaven, 
 And send on the poor broken spirit the rest, 
 
 Which but to the wearied is given.
 
 THE SPIEIT SONG. 177 
 
 Then away, away to the regions of day, 
 Let me wing my freedom on high. 
 
 And happily frolic my years away 
 In the vault of the summer sky ! 
 
 >'
 
 (suggested by the painting or delaeoche.) 
 
 OFT fell the light o'er the wave, and 
 
 shower' d its brightness upon her 
 Slowly floating along, with her hands tied 
 tightly behind her ; 
 Sweet was the calm, calm smile which shone on her 
 
 deathly pale features, 
 Sweet was the aspect of peace which illumined the 
 
 face of the maiden. 
 Inez, the innocent girl, why had they so ruthlessly 
 
 murdered 
 One who was lov'd by all! "Wliy had not the arm 
 of the Mighty
 
 THE CHRISTIAX MAETTE. 179 
 
 Been stretched to shield her from those who des- 
 troyed so lovely a flower. — 
 
 Trouble was over for her, though never the blossom 
 had ripened, 
 
 Nipt ofi", alas, in the bud, while its just opening fra- 
 grance 
 
 Basked in the love of the pure. Yet a life was 
 past and was over ! 
 
 One bright name was erased from Time's ever-vary- 
 ing pages. 
 
 One sweet soul had reached its rest from every 
 trouble, ,' . ; i -• ^ 
 
 One young victim had found an early grave to close 
 o'er her, 
 
 One loving spirit now stood in joy, amid the ranks 
 of the blessed, 
 
 Leaving the dark dark world, and all its changes 
 behind her, 
 
 All the cold troubles of earth, to breathe in the 
 sunshine of Heaven,
 
 180 THE CHEISTIAN MAETYK. 
 
 Quitting tbe weary path while others were toiling 
 
 and striving. 
 Hard had been life's short labour ! but she was at 
 
 rest, and for ever ; 
 Other bosoms might bleed, other hearts might bow 
 
 down in their anguish, 
 Her cares were over now, when her childhood was 
 
 scarcely completed. 
 AU the future was happy, aU dreams of sorrow were 
 
 over, 
 All the vexing thoughts which harass the minds of 
 
 the mortal, 
 And her spirit had flown to seek, in the kingdom of 
 
 Heaven, 
 Peace, that was wanting on earth, — had burst the 
 
 body's frail bondage, 
 Leaving a relic behind of her who had once lived 
 
 and sorrowed, 
 Leaving a name behind, the name of a Christian 
 
 Mart^^r.
 
 THE CHRISTIAN MARTTE. 181 
 
 Pale fell the light on her face, and lit it up 
 
 with a glory 
 Sprung from the fountain of grace. Yes, Inez, thy 
 
 trouble was over, 
 Never more wouldst thou know the ciu-se of labour 
 
 and sorrow, 
 Happiness, longed for on earth, is thine in the 
 
 kingdom of Heaven !
 
 SCo-dtbrroui, 
 
 UT not oif from to-day 
 
 Lest it bring you sorrow, 
 "Work to-day with zeal 
 
 To earn a bright to-morrow. 
 
 Let not pleasure's paths 
 Tempt you from your duty. 
 
 Pass the flowers by, 
 
 Though they glow with beauty.
 
 TO-MOEKOW. 
 
 Throw tlie feelings down, 
 That seek to perish idle, 
 
 Lest you find too late 
 Tour love is but an idol. 
 
 Lest you feel your heart, 
 After days of pleasure, 
 
 Has lost its peace and joy. 
 Its rarest, rarest treasure 
 
 Never to return 
 
 Fly the days of youth. 
 Never to return 
 
 Fly early love and truth 
 
 And our life is aye 
 But a vale of tears, 
 
 Clouds shut out the sun. 
 And rarely joy appear 
 
 183
 
 184 TO-MOEEOW. 
 
 And the veil updrawn, 
 Shews a scene of sorrow, 
 
 Only hope is there 
 
 To cheer the dark to-morrow !
 
 i0 1 at^. 
 
 H ! would that oiir hearts were together, 
 Linked close by the spirit of love, 
 That our happiness never might wither, 
 Nor its sunshine the winter remove. 
 
 Oh ! would that our spirits were living 
 Far away from the presence of care, 
 
 Far away from all trouble and striving, 
 And the sorrows that mortals must bear ! 
 
 Time will never more see me light-hearted, 
 As I think of the days that are past,
 
 186 TO KA.TE. 
 
 Before the glad visions departed, 
 Or the shadow was over us cast. 
 
 The spirit that once has been blighted, 
 Can blossom and flourish no more. 
 
 As when in the desert benighted 
 The wayfarer's journey is o'er.
 
 mP- 
 
 H ! tte cruel, cruel hardness, that rules 
 the woman's breast, 
 Oh ! the wretched, wretched sorrow, 
 that knows no pitying rest, 
 Oh ! the cold, cold accents uttered by lips tiU now 
 
 so dear, 
 No kindly voice to comfort, and no eye to drop a 
 
 tear! 
 Death is better far than life when all the path is 
 
 in the shade, 
 AVTien all the treasured hopes, have been, alas ! too 
 long delayed.
 
 188 BEREFT. 
 
 For the grave is as oblivion, when the future bides 
 
 alone, 
 And all the records of the past lie neath the burial 
 
 stone ; 
 In the land of heavenly sunshine will the spirit 
 
 freely roam 
 No longer on a foreign shore, but on its happy 
 
 home. 
 Tet what are these but fancies ? Must we hate our 
 
 life below 
 Because our lot is void of joy, and seems to yield 
 
 but woe ? 
 No, no, cast off the idle thought, mount up the 
 
 hiU of life, 
 Throw behind all didl despondency, and bravely 
 
 bear the strife ! 
 It is madness thus to linger ; never let us dream, 
 
 but do, 
 And follow in our eagerness, the aim we have in 
 
 view!
 
 BEEEFT. 189 
 
 Borne upou tlie wings of fancy let us upward ever 
 
 climb, 
 To win the mighty masterpiece, tlio wonderwork 
 
 of Time ! 
 Spurning neath our feet the grovelling earth, on, 
 
 on, let all be done. 
 Let none give o'er his labour till his course be 
 
 fully run ! 
 Let the world produce its pleasures, they will ever 
 
 hide a thorn, 
 And bear in sorrow sorrows and mourning cause 
 
 to mourn. 
 The fleeting, fleeting pleasures for a lifetime only 
 
 last, 
 One hour perhaps will ruin them, and then, our 
 
 life is past. 
 Without one noble action springing from a noble 
 
 mind, 
 "Without a single monument of worth to leave 
 
 behind !
 
 190 BEBErT. 
 
 And the darkness shrouds the memory, and hides 
 
 it from the light, 
 And dark oblivion rises up, and wraps it in the 
 
 night ! 
 No, — let the dayspring of thy life be rendered 
 
 clear as noon, 
 Thou shalt not wish the final rest, 'twill only come 
 
 too soon ; 
 But when it comes to bid thee hence, hence to a 
 
 purer clime, 
 Thou wilt leave behind a name of pride upon the 
 
 page of Time ; 
 Nor can the lapse of years decay, though centuries 
 
 should roll 
 Their endless wearing on thy fame, can that obscure 
 
 the whole ! 
 Leave behind all puny wishes, and fix the mind 
 
 above ? 
 And let the human heart be one grand monument 
 
 of love !
 
 BEREFT. 191 
 
 Track thro' tlie far- stretched journey the vision 
 
 of the end, 
 Let longing, pride, affection, all their noblest 
 
 feelings lend ; 
 So shall the path of life grow sweet, nor will the 
 
 heart grow faint, 
 Nor wish an instant's respite, or breathe one sad 
 
 complaint. 
 This is what life was meant to be, free from all 
 
 doubt and fear 
 To harass the poor strugglers in the mighty desert 
 
 here ; 
 A lesson have we all to learn, hard is the thought 
 
 to give, 
 Though dark may seem to be our lot, yet 'tis a 
 
 boon to live!
 
 ilpdm^n^. 
 
 HEEE the old Carthaginian fought his 
 fight of old 
 Is now a radiant sheet of liquid gold, 
 
 And in the west a faint expiring ray- 
 Sheds the last glory of the dying day. 
 Here, Trasimene, by thy rippling tide, 
 In bygone ages many a soldier died, — 
 Breathed the last sigh from out his valiant breast, 
 And calmly sank into his last long rest. 
 Eather than see the field he could not save 
 Died sword in hand, and fiUed a soldier's grave ! 
 Ah ! cruel God of War ! if every stone 
 Could speak, 'twould teU of many a dying groan,
 
 TRASIMEXE. 193 
 
 Of eyes, once bright, closed in the sleep of death, 
 Of blessings muttered with life's latest breath, 
 Of thoughts reverting to a long past day. 
 Thoughts of kind friends though they be far 
 
 away ! 
 Ah ! for the agonising hopes and fears, 
 The widow's sorrow and the orphan's tears, 
 When fugitives from the desperate conflict come 
 Telling a tale to darken many a home ! 
 
 The sun has sank, and now to light the skies 
 Among the planets see the moon arise ! 
 The rosy hue has faded, and instead 
 Luna's soft beams a silver radiance shed, 
 'Tis vain for mortals e'er indeed to say 
 "Whether the night be beauteous as the day, 
 One the more splendid, glorious and bright, 
 The other calmer with its soft, faint light !
 
 ^\u S 114am. 
 
 WATCHED it on its murmuring way, 
 
 A single sunbeam on it lay 
 Lighting it up with glorious ray, 
 Amid the forest maze. 
 I heard its faint and silvery sound 
 Plash merrily o'er the mossy ground 
 By grassy hillock and mossy mound, 
 Secret from mortal gaze. 
 
 I stood beside that fountain head, 
 And watched it as its course it sped 
 
 Among the waving trees ; 
 And while I gazed I seemed to hear 
 Sweet iairy voices soft and clear 
 
 Come wafted on the breeze.
 
 THE DKEAM. 195 
 
 In many a shape the branches spread 
 A leafy covering o'er my head 
 
 To shade me from the day, 
 And leaves soft whit<pered as they shook, 
 And musically sang the brook 
 
 Upon its devious way. 
 
 Like veias upon the velvet grass 
 The gnarled oak-roots interpass, 
 
 Peering above the ground ; 
 The ancient trunks in vast array, 
 Stretching to darkness far away, 
 
 Like guardians stand around. 
 
 Eecliuing iu that forest dell 
 Almost unconsciously I fell 
 
 Into a slumber mild ; 
 I cannot tell how short it seemed 
 To me, as when asleep I dreamed 
 
 I was again a child.
 
 196 THE DREAM. 
 
 Methought I passed the days of yore, 
 And lived again as once before 
 
 A liappy, liappy time ; 
 But no, ah no ! it cannot be, 
 My day is past, no more for me 
 
 Youth spreads its golden prime ! 
 
 I dreamt I saw our cottage door, 
 The little lattice as before 
 
 Where grew my briar rose ; 
 I saw the ivy-covered spire. 
 The hall where lived our good old squire, 
 
 The village school and close. 
 
 And hazy visions of the past. 
 Too bright, too comforting to last, 
 
 Pass, dimly seen, before ! 
 Eeality destroys their face. 
 Truth does not countenance their place. 
 
 And so they fade once more.
 
 THE DEEAM. 197 
 
 Memorials of a day gone by 
 
 When life's broad path seemed straight to lie, 
 
 Shades of what once has been, 
 Stay ! while my heart can satiate 
 "With fulness of the bygone state, 
 Ere yet its hardening self can mate 
 
 With things I since have seen. 
 
 For oh ! those times were happier far, 
 Ere sin could blight or sorrow mar, 
 
 Tlian all my life-time since ; 
 Eor brightly shines the sun of truth. 
 And casts a halo round the youth 
 
 Of Peasant and of Prince ! 
 
 I saw them stretching far away, 
 The dizzy phantoms of a day 
 
 Past and for ever gone ! 
 Never, never to return 
 While Time his running sand can turn, 
 
 The future shines alone !
 
 198 THE DEEAM. 
 
 I saw, too, many faces dear 
 
 Of those who are no longer here 
 
 But on a better shore, 
 Dear little Kate and darling May, 
 And many others seem to say, 
 
 " Mourn not, we'll meet once more !" 
 
 Ah ! Memory is the book of G-od, 
 Eetrospect is a chastening rod, 
 
 A vast omniscient plan, 
 To make us see what once we were. 
 And with our present state compare 
 
 The childhood of the man ! 
 
 I saw the wood, I saw the lane, 
 Where first iinused to care and pain 
 
 We wandered in the spring, 
 To pluck the newly opening flowers ; 
 How rapidly fled by the hours. 
 
 In mirth and rollicking !
 
 THE DBEAM. 199 
 
 Tet why recall the empty cot, 
 As, one by one, they left the spot 
 
 In distant towns to slave ! 
 The village church-yard has a stone 
 Placed 'neath a willow all alone, 
 
 It marks my mother's grave. 
 
 Oh Mother, Mother, when I think 
 Of thee my manhood seems to shrink. 
 
 The test I cannot bear ; 
 Oh close the book, show me no more 
 Of the events and deeds of yore, 
 I know enough of memory's store, 
 
 Further I will not dare ! 
 
 TP tF W »!• ^ 
 
 I thought I heard the village chime, 
 Sound as it did in bygone time, 
 
 Eing from the belfry old. 
 The hour of evening prayer to tell, 
 In sacred accents swung the bell. 
 
 And then I heard it tolled !
 
 200 THE DREAM. 
 
 Back, futile visions of the Past ! 
 
 Back to oblivious shade ! 
 
 Racked with a bitter pain I woke, 
 
 And saw the forest glade. 
 
 The murmuring streamlet still rushed on, 
 
 And o'er the pebbles played ; 
 
 And sighing, as I rose to leave, 
 
 Thus to myself I said : — 
 
 " Tears have passed o'er my head since then, 
 
 The lads have now grown up to men. 
 
 And left those scenes of joy ; 
 But never, never shall I see 
 Such happy, happy days to me, 
 
 As when I was a boy !"
 
 (8tIH. 
 
 PAET I. 
 
 HE day's fast fading, Uncle Tom, and 
 you must come with me 
 To where the lake's broad waters seem 
 as boundless as the sea, 
 Tor the sun is fast declining, and the daylight will 
 
 decay, 
 And we shall have the glow-worm's lamp to light 
 us on our way. 
 
 Oh ! let us wander in among the mazes of the 
 wood,
 
 202 ETA. 
 
 And see the sun far distant make tlie waters glow 
 
 like blood, 
 And stand among the giant oaks, and hear the 
 
 blackbirds sing, 
 And mark the throttles warbling forth in endless 
 
 revelling : 
 
 And sit upon the banks of moss, which nurse the 
 
 cuckoo flowers, 
 An d pull the honeysuckle boughs that make such 
 
 pretty bowers ; 
 And then I'll make a rose-wreath, and twine the 
 
 flowers for you, 
 And weave a garland for your head of buds and 
 
 harebells blue. 
 
 Do you think. Uncle Tom, on earth there is a 
 
 prettier place 
 Than where our little rivulet joins Adam Green's 
 
 mill race ?
 
 ETA. 203 
 
 Where alder bushes shade the stream, and pink- 
 tipped daisies grow, 
 
 And like a purple carpeting the scented violets 
 blow ! 
 
 Tliere, when the sun has ceased his light and 
 
 evening closes round, 
 You'll take me on your knee and sit upon the 
 
 velvet ground, 
 And tell me that sweet story of the little gentle 
 
 child, 
 "Who never answered evil words when wicked men 
 
 reviled. 
 
 Who slept in a lowly stable the night that He was 
 
 bom, 
 While angels sang the livelong night up to the 
 
 Christmas dawn, 
 And then that bright bright star shone forth and 
 
 shewed the Eastern Kings
 
 204 EVA. 
 
 The humble place where they should take their 
 golden offerings. 
 
 That tale's so pretty, Uncle Tom, that you've so 
 
 often told, 
 And so is that about the Sheep, the Shepherd and 
 
 His fold ; 
 Does that big book you're always reading tell the 
 
 tales to you, 
 And when I'm older may I read the pretty stories 
 
 too ? 
 
 Did Jesus love the wicked men who killed Him 
 
 long ago ? 
 And can He see me, Uncle Tom, now I am here 
 
 below ? 
 Can He always hear me pray to Him, since He 
 
 lives up so high ? 
 Does the music of our morning hymn pierce 
 
 through the deep blue sky ?
 
 EVA. 205 
 
 And do you love Him, Uncle Tom, because for 
 
 you He died ? 
 And has He ever come down here since He was 
 
 crucified ? 
 I wish that I could see Him, but He don't come 
 
 down to me ; 
 Tet shall we both go up to Heaven and all the 
 
 glory see ? 
 
 But come with me, dear Uncle Tom, for fast the 
 
 sun is falling. 
 And from the waving branches you can hear the 
 
 blackbirds calling. 
 "We first must see the sunset flash in crimson on the 
 
 lake. 
 Then stay to watch the shining stars climb in the 
 
 daylight's wake.
 
 20G 
 
 EYA. 
 
 PAET II. 
 
 OU are crying, Uncle Tom, though you 
 tliink I cannot see, 
 The tears course down between your 
 hands, you're crying, Tom, for me ! 
 Tou needn't be so sorrowful because I'm going 
 
 away; 
 Bemember what you've told to me about the dawn- 
 ing day : 
 
 I don't mean earthly mornings, though glad the 
 
 sunbeams fall, 
 There is another brightness which far outshines 
 
 them all ;
 
 ETA. 207 
 
 You've often told me, TJncle Tom, how sweet 
 
 'twould be to go 
 Up to His home, and leave this world of sin and 
 
 care below. 
 
 My life's been very pleasant, Tom, I'm very young 
 
 to die, 
 But yet, I think, I'U gladly go where Jesus waits 
 
 on high ; 
 And death will make me go to Him and ease me 
 
 of my pain. 
 And there we'll meet together, Tom, and never 
 
 part again. 
 
 I think I'm dying now, Tom, my spirit seems to 
 
 bound 
 "Within my breast, as if the soul its rest had nearly 
 
 found. 
 You must lay me in the ground, Tom, where 
 
 the weeping willows wave, 
 And plant with early violets your little Eva's grave.
 
 208 EVA. 
 
 I am going to my resting-place, beneath the grass 
 
 to lie, 
 While the branches murmur o'er my head their 
 
 plaintive melody ; 
 And please to plant my lily on the spot above my 
 
 head, 
 For no one loves my flower but you, — so tend it 
 
 when I'm dead. 
 
 You must often come and see me there, where 
 we've so often been 
 
 "When the chestnut trees were leafy, and the 
 willow boughs were green ; 
 
 I've had such happy, happy days since first you 
 came to Clare, 
 
 The thought of seeing you no more is what I can- 
 not bear ! 
 
 Please reach my little Bible, for it's lying close 
 beside,
 
 ETA. 209 
 
 Just turn and you can reacli it, so you needn't quit 
 
 my side ; 
 I hope I am not tii'iiig you, but I feel very weak. 
 It won"t be long before my tongue has ceased on 
 
 earth to speak. 
 
 I wish you'd find the place for me, you know the 
 
 jjlace I want, 
 For my hands are growing feeble, and I feel as 
 
 though I cau't. 
 How Jesus took the children and words of pity 
 
 said, 
 And laid His kindly hands upon each little infant's 
 
 head. 
 
 And does He care for children now as much as in 
 
 those days, 
 And pay as much attention when their ])rayers to 
 
 Him they raise ? 
 
 p
 
 210 ETA. 
 
 I hope He loves me, Uncle Tom, because I love 
 
 Him so, 
 Although I've never seen His face at present here 
 
 below ! 
 
 Tou mustn't mourn for me, Tom, nor wish me back 
 
 again, 
 I only go a journey out of trouble and of pain ; 
 And though you'll miss me sadly. Uncle Tom, 
 
 at first I fear, 
 Tou must dry your eyes for love of me — promise 
 
 me, Uncle dear? 
 
 And when my longing soul has burst the body's 
 
 mortal shell 
 Cut off a lock of Eva's hair, for Eva loved you well, 
 And give a piece to all the slaves, to Eekab and her 
 
 son, 
 Eor that will sometimes mind them of me when 
 
 I'm dead and gone.
 
 EVA, 211 
 
 It's getting dark, dear Uncle, and the world goes 
 
 off to rest, 
 Just place your hand behind my head, and lean it 
 
 on your breast, 
 It's getting rather cold now, and my chest begins 
 
 to chill, 
 Tou will remember all I've said, say Uncle that 
 
 you will. 
 
 Where are you ? I can't see you, but I hear your 
 
 bated breath, 
 And I feel a solemn stupor creep — Oh Uncle, is 
 
 this death ? 
 And though the world is dark I see a brightly 
 
 shining light, 
 I'm sure it must be Heaven, for it turns to day the 
 
 night ! 
 
 Oh ! I see the heavens opening, and I see my 
 Saviour dear.
 
 212 EVA. 
 
 He seems to beckon to me, and say, " Eva, do not 
 
 fear !" 
 Good bye, dear Tom, for ever, for I'm going, going 
 
 home, 
 To live with Christ for evermore. Eedeemer ! God ! 
 
 I come !
 
 loract 
 
 LIB. I. ODE 38. 
 PEHSICOS ODI, PUER, APPARATUS, ETC. 
 
 .c^xv^'ENCE with the sickly pleasures of the 
 UMm East, 
 
 Seek not with Persian meats to deck the 
 feast, 
 Nor longer linger, wasting youth's briglit hours, 
 In vain desire to pluck the late rose flowers. 
 
 The verdant myrtle is without compare 
 Fittest of garlands for the slave to wear, 
 Nor will disgrace his master, neath his vines 
 Eeclining as he quaffs his choicest wines.
 
 •nm- 
 
 ORTH bursts the light, back flies the 
 
 winter's pall, 
 Eresh from the gloom the sunshine 
 
 breaks its thrall ; 
 In varied hues bud forth the opening flowers, 
 In sportive gentleness flit by the hours : 
 Earth dons her verdure, and expels the snows, 
 While o'er the land a gentle zephyr blows : 
 Dew decks the grass, upsprings each tiny blade, 
 Lest it return from sunshine back to shade !
 
 SPRING. 215 
 
 But stay ! Wliat nympli approaches with licr 
 
 train ? 
 'Tis Spring, she comes to claim her just domain ! 
 Do^vu bend the shooting grass-blades at her feet, 
 Grow drunk with joy, with happiness complete ; 
 'Mid the thick air hums loud the toiling bee, 
 Flies shake their wings, and break their lethargy. 
 
 Through the new budding groves of waving trees 
 She comes, her garments rustling in the breeze ; 
 Smiling her face, her head is crowned with flowers, 
 Violets and snowdrops, while around she showers 
 Warmth, genial light, and gladness. On her 
 
 breast 
 A gentle turtle-dove has made its nest. 
 And cooing gently seeks to vent his love 
 In soft drawn cadence to the fair above. 
 Her mantle hem drawn on the dewy ground, 
 Grives forth a pleasant light and tinkling sound ; 
 A sound of happiness to come, and peace, 
 Of future sunshine for the spring-time's lease.
 
 216 SPUIKG. 
 
 First in the train, far stretching from the sight, 
 Comes Cheerfulness, in shining garments dight ; 
 Next, followed by a host of twinkling feet. 
 Bound Joy and Pleasure, the new year to greet ; 
 jMixed is their train, glad are their smiliug looks. 
 Unknown to grey-beards, and unread in books. 
 Near them are found rough Exercise and Sport, 
 Nor would sweet Health be Ions: unfound, if 
 
 sought. 
 Next comes the Goddess to the earth most dear, 
 Fairest Divinity, whom all revere 
 Both in thine own and in a lower spliere — 
 Bright Flora ! flowers does she fling around, 
 That falling root and brighten all the ground. 
 Hail ! fairest Spring ! Hail ! to the coming time. 
 Of Health and Happiness in all their prime, 
 Hail ! to the sunshme and the budding trees. 
 That 'gin to echo the sweet breathing breeze ! 
 Spring of the year, we give to thee alone 
 A homage paralleled by that to none !
 
 SPEIXG. 217 
 
 Tliou bring' st the eartli out of its gloomy cell. 
 And scatterest blessings on each hill and dell. 
 Hail ! bounteous Goddess, thine must be the sway, 
 Thrice potent offspring of the light of day !
 
 "iltOMjIth." 
 
 HE seasons are fading fast 
 
 Tear after year. 
 And the bright days of happiness 
 Soon disappear. 
 
 The spirit gTows colder 
 
 As waxes the day, 
 Ajid the voice that has solaced us 
 
 Padeth away. 
 
 The shades of the twilight 
 
 Are gathering in, 
 And the heart is o'er burdened 
 
 With trouble and sin !
 
 THOUGHTS. 219 
 
 All, all that is mortal 
 
 But briefly can last, 
 We gaze on the ruins 
 
 Of that which is past ! 
 
 And memory leaves but 
 A faint trace behind, 
 
 And the tie that now binds us 
 Soon ceases to bind ! 
 
 But hope is eternal, 
 And lives in the breast 
 
 To comfort the spirit 
 And render it rest. 
 
 A far greater happiness 
 
 Waits on a shore, 
 Where hope is not wanted 
 
 For trouble is o'er ! 
 
 And Hope is the spirit 
 That bids us look on,
 
 220 THOUGHTS. 
 
 Nor relinquisli our toil 
 Till the journey is done. 
 
 For still thro' the darkness 
 There glimmers a light, 
 
 That cheereth the fainting 
 More bravely to fight. 
 
 On, on to the morning 
 Our footsteps must tend, 
 
 The labour seems easy 
 "When blossoms the end. 
 
 For oh 'twould be sweet 
 To remember the past, 
 
 How ever we struggled 
 While trouble could last ! 
 
 Till at length for our sorrow 
 The healing was given. 
 
 And our souls were at rest 
 In the kingdom of Heaven !
 
 30UiJ. 
 
 VE'S like the early youth of spring, 
 
 Ere yet its joy be shorn, 
 Like summer's faintly whispering breeze 
 That ushers in the dawTi ! 
 Yet vast its power, its magic chain 
 
 Binds e'en the courts above, 
 Ah ! what were this poor little world 
 If 'twere bereft of love ? 
 
 Its gentle influence o'er our hearts 
 
 Steals like the evening breeze, 
 That softly sighs itself away 
 
 Among the sleeping trees.
 
 222 LOVE. 
 
 But strong the chains though light they seem, 
 
 No power the heart can move, 
 Or drive from out the human breast 
 
 The golden sun of love ! 
 
 -A
 
 lijath d| II c^aini 
 
 EATH came, but not in terrors was he 
 robed, 
 Scarcely a change passed o'er the smil- 
 ing face 
 We gazed upon. There was a gentle shock, 
 And one long look on those who stood around. 
 And then, a smile of joy unutterable 
 Flitted across her face ; we heard her say, 
 " Jesus, dear Saviour !" — then her eyelids drooped. 
 But yet she wore the aspect of a saint, 
 Filled with a wondrous grace, as though she saw 
 The million hierarchs of Heaven, and caught
 
 224 THE DEATH OF A SAINT. 
 
 The loud " Hosannas" to the Saint of God, 
 And heard the ever ringing silver tones 
 Throb from the golden harps of those who praise 
 The mightj God for ever, in their robes 
 Of spotless white ! Awhile entranced we gazed 
 Upon the form, whose soul had fled for aye, 
 The empty shell of what was once so pure, 
 So gentle, holy ; but the look of grace, 
 Settling upon her face seemed still to say : — 
 " Friends, mourn not for me ; I am now at rest ; 
 Tou would not wish my spirit back again : 
 Farewell ! dear friends, farewell ! we yet may 
 
 meet 
 "Where I am gone before. Farewell, Farewell !" 
 The tears stood in mine eyes, deep heart-sprung 
 
 tears, 
 But then I seemed to hear her sweet toned voice 
 Einging in unison with those above, 
 And heavenly music faintly heard afar, 
 Was present to my fancy ; and I felt
 
 THE DEATH OF A SAINT. 225 
 
 As tliougli I could not wish her back again 
 To suffer earth's dull sorrows, and I blessed 
 Tlie hour that called her pure young soul away 
 For ever to its rest I 
 
 Q
 
 'cjaiii p^^tji that Sfl^^' 
 
 AIR passed that face before, and well I 
 
 remembered the features, 
 Features impressed on my heart with 
 the mem'ry of happier liours, 
 Features of all most dear. Oh ! Editha, star of my 
 
 waking ! 
 Star that sheds its light on all that passes before 
 
 me, 
 Beckoning me on through the mazes of life and its 
 
 troublesome pathways. 
 Bidding my heart uprise and ever hope on for tlie 
 future,
 
 FAIR PASSED THAT PACE 227 
 
 Ever hope on to the end, ever look where the bright 
 
 shining sunbeams 
 Burst thro' the thickly spread clouds and raise the 
 
 soul from its sorrow, 
 Teaching the secret of life, and rousing the slum- 
 bering spirit. 
 Urging it on to the goal. As the light shines out in 
 
 the darkness, 
 Placed in the cottage window to beckon the tra- 
 veller homewards, 
 Home to the warmth of heart that dwells by the 
 
 bright glowing hearth- stone. 
 Home from the cold without, from the cold cutting 
 
 blast of the north wind 
 Ever lie hid in our hearts the seeds of an ardent 
 
 affection, 
 AV^liich, though too oft, alas! left to pcrisli unnoticed, 
 
 uncared for, 
 Are and aye will exist while Time rolls onwards 
 his ages.
 
 228 FAIR PASSED THAT FACE. 
 
 Tew are the hearts but have a germ of love to 
 
 enlighten 
 "With a relieving hand the gloomy varying 
 
 fancies 
 Which haunt the human mind till they fill with a 
 
 deep-seated anguish 
 All that is good in the man, nor utterly warped 
 
 by the contact 
 With the sullying dross of the world, its troubles 
 
 and sorrow. 
 Yes ! now I see thy face still beckoning, beckon- 
 ing onwards. 
 Vain 'tis to hold my steps, they will evermore, 
 
 evermore follow 
 Thee as their guide to death. When, when will 
 
 the darkness of darkness 
 Burst with the dawn of light, and joy spring forth 
 
 from the shadows, 
 Shadows of that which is real to otliers, to me 'tis 
 
 as fleeting
 
 FAIE PASSED THAT FACE. 229 
 
 As tlie wind, whicli soft sighs its requiem into the 
 
 distance. 
 When will my weary eyes open glad on a glorious 
 
 sunshine, 
 Happier e'en than that when life's dawning path 
 
 seemed the brightest, 
 Peace blotting out the past, and joy eclipsing the 
 
 sorrow.
 
 ^ gt^tlx 4 |iiiani 
 
 Tra^sSlation prom Viegil, JETf. 2. 505. 
 
 EECHANCE you ask, " Aud what was 
 Priam's fate ?" 
 Wheu first he saw the city's ruined 
 state, 
 Beheld the desolated hearths and homes, 
 The blazing minarets and falling domes, 
 H^ arms himself with speed. Vain, foolish boast ! 
 Thinking to combat the victorious host. 
 He girds the sword, fits on the shirt of mail, 
 While nodding horsehair plumes his grey locks 
 veil.
 
 THE DEATH OF PIUAM. 231 
 
 AVitliiii Troy's walls there was a sacred fane, 
 Which Priam's liigh-boru spouse had sought to 
 
 gain ; 
 'Twas shaded by a laurel shrub, but now 
 Unheeded stood Apollo's sacred bough. 
 Here Priam stayed his steps ; his wife beholds, 
 And from the scene of strife her husband holds. 
 " What madness, Priam, hath possessed thy brain V 
 The throne thou'st lost, thou never canst regain ! 
 AVhy hast thou put on armour ? Dost thou think 
 From an old man the Greeks will blindly shrink ? 
 Ah! if my Hector were but now alive, 
 The hopes of Troy would speedily revive ! 
 Seek not the fight, thou canst not Ilium save, 
 Then stay and live, or seek with me one grave !" 
 So spake the lady, and in sickening fear 
 They grasp the altar, soon to be a bier ! 
 
 But see ! Polites 'scaped from out the fight 
 Pyrrhus pursues, resolved to take his life ; 
 Bleeding he stumbles through the vacant halls.
 
 232 THE DEATH OP PEIAM. 
 
 Till iu his anxious parents' sight he falls. 
 
 Then Priam forgot his danger and his age, 
 
 And spake to Pyrrhus, boiling o'er with rage : 
 
 " For this foul deed, for this most daring crime, 
 
 The Gods above will in the proper time 
 
 Vengeance return fourfold, and give to thee 
 
 Eewards most worthy of thy cruelty. 
 
 Shame ! by thy hands Polites bleeding lies, 
 
 Butchered before his father's loving eyes. 
 
 Coward ! Achilles, thy pretended sire, 
 
 When his heart glowed with Ares' scorching lire, 
 
 Gave back my Hector's body when implored, 
 
 And safely me to Ilium restored. 
 
 But thou .'" Tlius spake he and a javelin cast, 
 
 'Twas feebly thrown ; that throw was Priam's last f 
 
 The sounding shield repulsed the coming shaft, 
 
 With bitter scorn the haughty Pyrrhus laughed : 
 
 '^Thyself, old man, a messenger shalt go, 
 
 And these sad deeds Achilles tell below ; 
 
 Now die !" Thus speaking, to his lasting shame
 
 THE DEATH OP PEIAM. 233 
 
 He drew his sword, and forward quickly came ; 
 Dragged Priam, slipping in Polites' blood, 
 To where his trembling wife and daughters stood. 
 One stroke was all, the deed required no more. 
 And Priam's reign and earthly course were o'er !
 
 Wo §omm 
 
 Traxslatton of Hoeace. Odes, book ii. ode 7. 
 
 FT in the ranks of war we've stood, 
 AVliere deepest flowed the tide of 
 blood ; 
 
 "Wlicn Brutus granted with a gracious hand 
 That tliou in Rome a citizen should' st stand. 
 
 Oft, Pompey, when our toil was done, 
 And low in Heaven sank the sun, 
 AVe've quafted full goblets of Ealernian wine, 
 Crowned with fair garlands of the golden vine.
 
 TO POMPET. 235 
 
 See here this battered helm and shiekl. 
 
 Mementoes of that bloody field, 
 When from Philippi in a panic dread. 
 The traitorous legions wavered, turned, and 
 fled. 
 
 Me, in a cloud as dark as night, 
 Hermes bore scatheless through the fight ; 
 While tliou, alas ! wert hidden in the wave 
 Of battling warriors striving for the grave. 
 
 G-ive to great Jove what seems him best 
 
 A thankful ofiering, then we'll rest 
 Beneath my laurels and my glowing vines 
 And drink right deeply as the day declines. 
 
 Fill with the ruby Massic wine, 
 Watch the bright wavelets dance and shme, 
 And pour the scents upon your flowing hair, 
 Let body, mind, alike the pleasures share !
 
 236 TO POMPET. 
 
 Likest thou the myrtle ? Deeply quaff 
 The ruddy torreut, loudly laugh. 
 Who rules the feast ? Let the fair Venus say 
 "Who is to will the pleasures of the day !
 
 "©It hud wi[ mm fjpat;' 
 
 ¥i 
 
 
 1 
 
 '^ 
 
 
 v 
 
 ^\ 
 
 <v; 
 
 >^ 
 
 
 
 ^ 
 
 H had we some spot on the earth's broad 
 face, 
 Some purer and happier clime, 
 Where the soul could be free from the heart's 
 
 disgrace, 
 And but joy, and not sorrow, would leave a trace 
 To fill up the record of time ! 
 
 Where nought but affection could ever be found, 
 Dwelling deep in the breasts of all
 
 238 OH HAD WE SOME SPOT. 
 
 And no cold, cruel anguish the heart-strings 
 
 could wound, 
 Nor life's noblest feelings dash down to the 
 ground, 
 To bid the hopes perish and fall. 
 
 There, there would we dwell, and in happiness 
 think 
 
 Of the grief that had chilled us before, 
 Of our deep-seated anguish, when over the brink 
 Of danger's dark abyss, our hoj^es seemed to sink, 
 
 And the pleasure of youth was o'er. 
 
 For alas ! there now seems but a desert drear. 
 Stretching far away from the sight ; 
 
 And the pathway of life no longer is clear ; 
 
 'lis distraught with pale terrors, and darkened by 
 fear. 
 And the distance is shrouded in nicht.
 
 ( 
 
 on HAD WE SOME SPOT. 239 
 
 And tte bright star of fancy at length has waned, 
 
 Shut out from the longing gaze, 
 And the billows of sorrow have gi'eater strength 
 
 gained 
 And the spirit for aye from its wishes refrained, 
 
 For a broken heart nothing can raise !
 
 % iag §^m, 
 
 EFOEE me stretched far into space 
 Dim phantoms of the mind ; 
 The future was dark before ine, 
 And the past was dark behind. 
 
 And I seemed to see it rising, 
 The future's faint drawn scene ; 
 
 And 1 mused on the time that was coming, 
 Though a dark cloud hung between. 
 
 I stood at the open window. 
 And gazed on the busy street,
 
 A DAY DHEAM. 241 
 
 Heard the hum of voices rising, 
 And the tread of hurrying feet. 
 
 And I drew in my mind the futm-es 
 
 Of the crowds that passed below ; 
 And I singled some out for happiness, 
 
 And I traced for the others woe. 
 
 They passed so quick by the window, 
 
 The attention was hardly cast, 
 Ere the busy throngs intermingled, 
 
 And the one whom I looked on had passed. 
 
 And I said to myself, " Thus always 
 
 Will time roll its cycles on ; 
 And the bark of life should be guided well, 
 
 Lest the hope of its voyage be gone. 
 
 Ever, ever will years pass onward, 
 Nor leave but their memory behind, 
 
 R
 
 24;2 A DAT DREAM. 
 
 As music fades in tlie distance 
 Borne off by the summer wind. 
 
 And I strained my eyes to the future, 
 To see how our lives would run, 
 
 Whether they would be dulled by shadows, 
 Or cheered by the genial sun. 
 
 And I saw the dizzy phantoms, 
 Plainer, plainer begin to grow ; 
 
 And I chained the forms to my vision, 
 The forms that I faia would know. ' 
 
 And I saw a mighty abyss, 
 
 That yawned for my country's joy, 
 
 "When her iron hands grew supple 
 And her pleasures began to cloy. 
 
 And I gi'ieved as I saw the vision, 
 
 And my thoughts swept back once more, 
 
 And I heard the hum of the people, 
 x^ud the present seemed dark as before.
 
 A DAT DEEAM. 243 
 
 Aud I said to myself, " This present 
 Bids watching and constant care, 
 
 For dangers are hard to encounter, 
 And troubles are harder to bear."
 
 (^rajmijnt 
 
 MID the throngs of busy souls 
 
 That daily seek their worldly gain, 
 A tiny whisper seems to thrill, 
 That ever fades yet swells again. 
 
 There is a hidden chord of love 
 
 "Which moves the seliish hearts of all, 
 
 That like a gleam of kiadred light 
 Upon the spirit seems to fall. 
 
 There is some quick magnetic power. 
 
 That fellow men together binds, 
 Though outward it be unobserved, 
 
 Tet is, deep-rooted in the minds :
 
 A FEAGMENT. 245 
 
 Xor would be seen, yet could we view 
 At different times the human breast, 
 
 We ever surely there should fiud 
 
 Some slight blood-yearning toward the rest.
 
 ^uHiiiiiiontiqiti;. 
 
 r|ILL the beady bowl to brimming, 
 
 Let brave Bacchus rule the hours, 
 Crown the head with scented garlands, 
 Woven of the sweetest flowers ! 
 
 Pill the goblets, fill the goblets. 
 
 Drown dull care with wine and pleasure, 
 
 Drink to Eome, and Eoman power. 
 Sparkling eyes, and golden treasure ! 
 
 Ho Lyseus ! Ho Lyseus ! 
 
 Bravest of the godly host, 
 Here we thank thee, here we praise thee, 
 
 Bacchus, Bacchus be our toast !
 
 A>'ACREOXTIQUE. 247 
 
 Swiftly fly the winged liours, 
 
 Now declines the weary day, 
 Stay not the wineskins, fill the goblets, 
 
 Elinff the cares of state away. 
 
 Fill vdth wine of Herculaneum, 
 
 Falernian of the purple hue ! 
 See ! the ruddy waves dance brightly, 
 
 Glorious is the wine to view. 
 
 Hail, brave Bacchus ! Hail, brave Bacchus ! 
 
 Prince of pleasure, god of wine! 
 Life is short, but life is pleasant, 
 
 Spent beneath the branching vine.
 
 iu mnk 
 
 f^ 
 
 § 
 
 @ 
 
 i^ 
 
 w^ 
 
 )\v) 
 
 \ \ 
 
 
 Jy 
 
 ^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 H ! the idol of my fancy, oh ! the beacon of 
 m}" heart, 
 My Edith, though our spirits and our- 
 selves be far apart, 
 There is a wondrous power which scorns the tie of 
 
 space, 
 And rushes like a whirlwind to the sweetness of 
 
 thy face ! 
 Though the hearts be far asunder, yet the thoughts 
 will ever rove,
 
 TO EDITH. 24-9 
 
 rrom the closeness of the present, to the form of 
 
 her they love, 
 "Will not ever, ever languish far away from scenes of 
 
 joy, 
 
 Till the gloom of sad despondency Hope's colour- 
 ing can destroy ; 
 Till the never-ending trials of the heart may gain 
 
 its seat, 
 And its joy for ever perish, trodden down by cruel 
 
 feet ! 
 No ! the thoughts will never linger, but will bear 
 
 the mind away 
 Prom the heaviness of twilight to the gladsome 
 
 light of day, 
 Steal away the man's dark feelings, and bid him 
 
 strain his eyes 
 To the misty shining future, and the faces which 
 
 arise. 
 Hope, hope thou livest truly for the blessing of 
 
 our kind !
 
 250 TO EDITH. 
 
 To raise the troubled spirit, and to clieer tlie droop- 
 ing mind, 
 To bid tlie heart brace up itself, to meet each fresh 
 
 attack, 
 Never shirk the troublous dangers, or present the 
 
 coward back. 
 Enough of morbid fancies, let me think of thee 
 
 again ! 
 Let the brightness of the vision rob remembrance 
 
 of its pain, 
 Let the dream of sinless beauty bring a comfort 
 
 and a rest, 
 To ease the ceaseless throbbing of the ever-loving 
 
 breast. 
 Let those dear dark eyes bring comfort, in their 
 
 loveliness secure. 
 Let them but pity anguish, time can never, never 
 
 cure !
 
 %k xv^W II ih^. 
 
 HOUGtH the laugh be loud and thrilling, 
 Yet it often veils a tear, 
 Though the world may look its fairest, 
 There's aye some trouble here ! 
 Ah, well a day ! 
 
 Never, never can the current 
 Of Time pass by so still, 
 
 But it leaves some troubled eddies, 
 The heart of man to fill ! 
 
 Ah, well a day !
 
 252 AH, WELL A DAT. 
 
 Tet still bravely" battle forward, 
 
 Througb the long course to the goal, 
 
 "What is suffering in the body, 
 If it only ease the soul ! 
 
 Ah, well a day !
 
 guIicd iuci;(| tin; Minds. 
 
 lUSHED were the winds of the summer 
 night, 
 Soft shone the moon's pure face, 
 And each tiny grass-blade was shining bright 
 "With the tears of an angel race. 
 
 For 'tis said that the dews which at night begin, 
 
 Nor past the morn can stay, 
 Are the tears angels shed for the load of sin. 
 
 That man has ta'en up in the day. 
 
 Then when the stars lit the deep blue sky, 
 
 And earth sank into its rest, 
 On a rustic seat sat my darling and I, 
 
 Her head lying back on my breast.
 
 254 HUSHED WERE THE WINDS. 
 
 Warm were tlie whispers tliat fell from us both, 
 
 Sweet were the visions of love, 
 As under the heavens we plighted our troth, 
 
 With the stars looking down from above. 
 
 Hand clasped in hand, never, never to part. 
 
 Oh how life's pathway will shine, 
 When the words swell forth from the loving 
 
 heart, 
 " Ah ! dearest, for ever I'm thine." 
 
 Long sat we there, and the time flew fast, 
 
 Hours like seconds sped on. 
 In the thought that our love was confessed at last, 
 
 That our souls for ever were one ! 
 
 Then rose we up, but the words still rung 
 In our hearts as we parted that even : 
 
 " Ah dearest, the paths of the world among, 
 I'm thine, while to me life is given !"
 
 (SaniimccU. 
 
 L I 
 
 HAT have I done, that so much honour 
 as this 
 Should shower its golden blessings on 
 my head, 
 What charm of mine so filled the mind of him 
 Who rules the earth and ocean with his nod 
 With wild desire for the servitude 
 Of a poor mortal. Better had he chosen 
 One of a purer cast, under whose skin 
 Courses th' ethereal ichor ; gods should serve 
 As comrades, not with men, but fellow gods!
 
 25G GANYMEDE. 
 
 But since such honour has fallen to my share, 
 Why should I not deserve the blessed weal ? 
 And do what mortal can to satisfy 
 My great immortal master's every will ? 
 And yet, there now presents a troublous scene 
 To my mind scarce recovered surprise ; 
 I see a home without a lighted hearth, 
 I see a sorrowing father far below 
 Mourning his only son in bitter grief: 
 I see the forest, laced with heaven's dew, 
 The drops which gem as with a silver crown 
 The forest of the pine, cresting the ridge 
 "Which stands in bold relief against the sky, 
 Guarding our dwelling from the icy Thrace 
 Which bounds the west. Oft, ere the morning sun 
 Gilt the wide floods of Hellespont, I've stood 
 Where mighty Jove was nourished on the hill ; 
 Where grow the amaranth and asphodel 
 In sweet profusion, and the fertile ground. 
 Teeming with violets, affords the kine
 
 GANYMEDE. 257 
 
 Sweet smelling pasturage, and gives their milk 
 The pleasant savour of the early flowers. 
 There lies the wood, where in the dark recess 
 Lurks in his covert lair the bristled boar, 
 Adonis-slaying, vdth. relentless tooth. 
 Ye earthly pleasures, ye were greater far 
 In your simplicity and young delights 
 Ere envy or malignant Fortune cast a shade, 
 Than all the never-fading happiness 
 Of this wide heaven. Oh mighty Jove, great King ! 
 At whose dread voice the boldest bows the knee 
 In meek submission, grant my humble prayer ! 
 Take from me all of everlasting joy 
 Tou reckoned for me. Send me back to earth. 
 Send to fair Ida's mount the hapless boy 
 Tou raped therefrom, send to his native earth 
 The child of mortals, having for his bane 
 Delight in mortal pleasures ; grant this boon ! 
 I never sought to leave the gentle spot 
 AVliere I was born and lived for twenty years, 
 
 8
 
 258 GANYMEDE. 
 
 TJncognisant of any other state 
 Than that indeed in which I moved, replete 
 With further happiness or misery. 
 Seek not to mix with the immortal gods 
 Earth'' s offspring ! Better let the falcon mate 
 "With harmless dove, than let a god descend 
 To mortal level. Send me back, great King, 
 Give me my life, my liberty, my joy."
 
 ^i[i[t 101110. 
 
 THOrGHT of Him, wlio as a lowly cliild 
 Came on oar earth to suffer and to die ; 
 And as I mused, a gentle languor 
 swelled 
 Over my limbs, and I was in a dream ; 
 In that long trance I thought I saw Him stand, 
 Mocked by the world, to meet His cruel doom. 
 
 'Twas a wide square, and an excited crowd 
 Was surging to and fro like mountain waves 
 Cresting the stormy sea, and one low roar
 
 260 ECCE HOMO. 
 
 Sullen and deep, now swelling and now hushed, 
 Showed the wild conflict of their anxious minds. 
 There was a hall, a pillared vestibule 
 Before great Pilate's mansion, and the dais 
 "Was raised above the crowd. And now the 
 
 shout 
 Swelled louder and more dread ! " Bring forth the 
 
 Man, 
 Where is this Jesus! Let us see our King !" 
 And in the judgment hall, where Pilate sat, 
 That cry was audible ; and pale with fear. 
 Lest that half maddened and tumultuous crowd 
 Should raise a riot, " Bring him forth," he said. 
 
 So then they put on Him a purple robe, 
 And for a sceptre in His gentle hand 
 They placed a broten reed to mark His crime. 
 Then with a crown of sharply piercing thorns. 
 Bound tightly round His brow, they crowned Him 
 king.
 
 ECCE noMO. 261 
 
 Tet o'er that blood-staiued wreath of stinging 
 
 thorns 
 Beamed a celestial halo and a grace, 
 Heaven in itself shone in His patient smile. 
 
 I saw Him stand upon that terraced dais 
 With all the throng of Israelites below, 
 Meek was the aspect of His calm pale face, 
 Streaked with the shining blood-drops j sweet the 
 
 look, 
 Tet with a background of such bitter woe 
 As would have melted into briny tears 
 A heart of marble ! Well I realised 
 Those mighty words forespoken of this hour, 
 " Lo, where is human sorrow like to mine ?" 
 But from a group of men who stood apart, 
 The Elders and the priests, there rose a cry : 
 " This is the Nazarene ! This is the Man !" 
 And with an awful echo of their words 
 I heard the voice of Ilierarchs in Heaven
 
 262 ECCE HOMO. 
 
 Swelling in chorus, " Lo ! this is the Man." 
 
 Then the mad crowd, roused from all thoughts of 
 
 shame, 
 Caught up the savage burden of the cry ; 
 And from that vast assemblage burst the shout 
 " He is a malefactor. He must die ! 
 Away with Him, let Him be crucified!" 
 Again up-swelled those fearfvd words of doom : 
 " Away with Him, let Him be crucified !" 
 
 Then pale grew Pilate's face, and as the rout 
 Waxed louder, stronger, he delivered up 
 The innocent, whom iu his heart of hearts 
 He knew was guiltless, Him he yielded up 
 Unto a shameful and a lingering death ! 
 So they departed, with Him in their midst, 
 Bending beneath the burden of His cross. 
 Scoffed at and mocked by the blood-thirsty crowd. 
 None in that throng, none of His chosen flock 
 Were present Him to cheer in that dark hour ; 
 None of the people He had h^ld so dear,
 
 ECCE HOMO. 263 
 
 None of those sheep for whom he soon would die 
 Tui'ned e'en a kindly glance upon Him. Far 
 In the dim distance, followed in the track 
 His mother and the Magdalene ; their hair 
 Loosed from confinement, and their eyes suffused 
 "With tears of blood, that they must view His 
 
 death. 
 Yes, Jesu, yes, of all the living world, 
 Few, few there were who shed a tear for Thee, 
 Only those followers who had known Thyself, 
 Had basked in Thy sweet sunshine, wept for 
 
 Thee! 
 Thy loving mother, though Thou wast her Lord, 
 Feeling the claim Thou had'st upon her heart. 
 Mourned with a double anguish ! And the maid, 
 Rescued by Thee from vice's damning path, 
 Poor Magdalene, these, and the holy few, 
 Thy chosen ministers watched o'er Thy death ! 
 Then as He fainted 'neath His ghastly load, 
 I saw the cross placed on the back of one
 
 264 ECCE HOMO. 
 
 Compelled to bear it, till they reached a spot 
 Pitting their purpose ' Golgotha' by name. 
 
 The cross was raised, and on its spreading arms 
 They nailed His tender hands, and then His feet 
 Streaming with crimson current were affixed 
 To the rough fabric, while on either side 
 Two other crosses bore their human loads. 
 Three victims — three, and yet how different all ! 
 They on the sides, for many a heinous crime 
 Condemned by law to suffer and to die, 
 Their faces stamj)ed with many a glaring trace 
 Of inward passion and of bloody deeds ; 
 Tet even these in their own minds were far 
 Above the one who suffered in the midst. 
 He, the Great God, accounted here below 
 The vilest of His creatures ! Oh that love, 
 Which prompted such forge tfulness of self, 
 Is the true love which passeth man's idea. 
 His look was more of sorrow than of pain,
 
 ECCE HOMO, 265 
 
 Although His pierced feet and hands were dyed 
 "With His pure blood fast trickling from the wounds 
 Made by the cruel nails. And o'er His head 
 Stretched a \vide scroll with legend of His charge 
 " This is the Jesus, King of all the Jews." 
 Little they thought, who peiuied those truthful 
 
 words, 
 What a vast sense they had, and though they meant 
 Them but in mockery they formed the name 
 He should for aye be known by. All that passed 
 Mocked at Him spitefully with bitter taunts, 
 " Art thou the Christ ? descend then from the cross, 
 And we will then believe. By devilish aid 
 Thou saved' st others ! Saviour, save Thyself!" 
 Thus would they scoff, and even one of those 
 Who suffered with Him, thus reproached His state ; 
 But to the other, with His latest breath 
 He promised happiness, for he it was 
 Who when repenting said, " Thou art the Lord, 
 My Saviour, Jesus !" Then said God to him :
 
 266 ECCE HOMO. 
 
 '' To-day, man, with Me in Paradise 
 Thy sold shall be !" And thus for six long hours 
 Hacked with a tearing mortal pain, He hung 
 On the accursed tree, while all the land 
 Was dark by reason of the inky clouds 
 Thick drawn before the sun, which could not see 
 And shine upon his great Creator's death. 
 So thus for six long hoiirs He hung in pain, 
 Scoffed at by those for whom He guiltless died ! 
 Then at the ninth hour, He raised up His voice 
 And cried, with an exceeding bitter cry, 
 " My Grod, my God, why hast Thou Me forsaken !" 
 And at that cry, a pang shot thro' my brain 
 At the bare thought that such an one as He 
 Should feel Himself forsaken, for His voice 
 Thrilled with the accents of a dread despair ! 
 But they around said, " Lo ! this Jesus calls 
 Upon Elias," — and one fetched a sponge, 
 Filled with a bitter mixture, wine and gall. 
 Then in a tone of utter bitterness
 
 ECCE HOMO. 
 
 267 
 
 He cried to Heaven, " It is finislied!" 
 
 These were the last He spake ; but now the earth 
 
 Quaked with a surging motion, and the vail 
 
 That barred the passage to the Holy place 
 
 "Was rent asunder. Then, a mighty fear 
 
 Pell on all present, and the soldiers said : 
 
 " Surely, this must have been the Son of God !" 
 
 Then turned I, and behold ! one clad in white, 
 
 Spotless and pure, and with a shining light 
 
 Full on his features playing stood beside. 
 
 Then said he to me, " See'st thou yon cross, 
 
 Dyed with the blood of One beyond all price ?" 
 
 And I replied, " Yea, Lord, I see it well, 
 
 And truly sorrow liveth in my breast 
 
 That one so innocent should perish thus." 
 
 Then spake the Angel clad in garments white, 
 
 " Man, list to Heaven and hear the sorrow there." 
 
 So then it seemed as if the heavens were cleft. 
 
 And angels' voices syllabled the name, 
 
 Of Him who hung upon the tree in tones
 
 268 ECCE HOMO. 
 
 Of bitter anguish, and my heart was rent 
 
 By reason of that vision. Tet the chant 
 
 Grew louder, louder, till at length it swelled 
 
 Into a hymn of grace and victory. 
 
 Then felt I, that though pain was now His lot, 
 
 Though now on earth He was despised of all. 
 
 In that bright Heaven none was held so high 
 
 As He now dying on that cross of shame. 
 
 And while entranced I strained mine eyes and 
 
 ears : 
 The bright-robed angel spake to me again, 
 " Man, moum'st thou now ? Know that in future 
 
 years, 
 Beyond the boujid of e'en an angel's ken. 
 He comes again ! Man, thou hast seen the past, 
 And thou shalt see the future's dread event. 
 Jesus, the Man of Sorrows, slain by those 
 He perished but to save, hath risen again, 
 And He will judge those men with righteous arm 
 When His great power cometh on earth !"
 
 ECCE noMo. 269 
 
 Then faded all the scene the while I gazed. 
 And niist-like clouds rolled downward from the 
 
 sky 
 Obscuring all ; and now the angel took 
 Me in his arms methought, and onward flew 
 Toward the top of Olivet, and there 
 He laid me down, then spake he, " Man, arise, 
 And see what cometh on our doomed earth." 
 Then at his words the clouds seemed drawn apart^ 
 And silence reigned unbroken as the dead. 
 
 So long I staid and wondering what would come. 
 Then from the heavens there rose a di'eadful sound, 
 As of some wondrous trumpet swelling high 
 Far beyond mortal knowledge, till its tone 
 Grew strong enough to wake the sleeping dead. 
 Then seemed it that the skies were rent apart. 
 And all the mighty angel-host of heaven 
 Sank toward the earth, and in the front of all 
 I saw that ' Man of Sorrows ;' well I knew
 
 270 ECCE HOMO. 
 
 The contour of the face ; it was the same 
 
 As that I saw pain-drawn upon the cross. 
 
 But now, those features were not filled with grief, 
 
 Sternness was planted on the spreading brow ; 
 
 He had leen Saviour, now he was.the Judge. 
 
 His head was crowned, not with the pointed 
 
 thorns, 
 But with a wreath of everlasting flame, 
 Shedding a heavenly glow upon a face 
 Already noble past my human thought. 
 Then at that trumpet sound an earthquake shook 
 The doomed universe, and all the graves 
 Disgorged their inmates j the vast sea upheaved, 
 And from his depths awakened from their sleep 
 The pallid corpses. Then the trumpet blast 
 Grew stronger, and a mighty rushing wind 
 Collected all, both dead and living men, 
 Into a crowd before Mount Olivet. 
 And on the summit of the towering rock 
 Sat the eternal Godhead throned in state,
 
 ECCE HOMO. 271 
 
 "With all the winged cherubims of heaven 
 Clustering round ; and at his feet there stood 
 The two recording angels, he of crimes, 
 And he of virtues, the great guardians. 
 Theu sounded once again th' Archangel's trump, 
 And forthwith earth yawned open, split apart 
 With wild reverberating noise ; the depths 
 Grew deeper, deeper, till before all eyes 
 Blazed the e'er-burning sulphur lake of Hell ; 
 And, from the midst of that vast fiery gulf, 
 Eose the condemned angels in a crowd, 
 In such vast number that their waving wings 
 Formed a great whirlwind. Then I turned to him 
 Who stood beside, " Bright angel, who are these ?" 
 Then spake the seraph, " These were cherubs all, 
 Loved by the Father, till their pride-fiUed King 
 Lured on by fell ambition's path devised 
 A plot against th' eternal Son of God. 
 He for this crime was banished from the sky, 
 And cast into the lowest depths of Hell,
 
 272 ECCE noMO. 
 
 Together with all angels of his sect, 
 That there they might for ever lie in pain, 
 Wishing, e'er wishing for their long lost home, 
 Longing, e'er longing for a glimpse of grace, 
 Watching, e'er watching for a single spark 
 Which might enkindle a faint flickering hope 
 Of glad redemption. These ye see are they." 
 
 I saw before the awful throne of G-od 
 
 The nations standing ; but no single one 
 
 Had thinking of his brother, all his thoughts 
 
 Ran on the dread, irrevocable past ! 
 
 Some of the faces wore a look of joy, 
 
 As though the souls were gladdened at the day 
 
 Which brought them nearer home ; and some there 
 
 were, 
 Who joined the Hallelujahs of the Saints 
 Praising before the throne. But there were those 
 Whose faces wore the look of deadly fear, 
 And from their pale -blanched and affrighted lips
 
 ECCE HOMO. 273 
 
 Broke cries for mercy, pardon, but their slirieks 
 Met with the sullen echo of" Too late." 
 Then turned many to the mountain-heights 
 Praying, " O mountains, fall and hide our shame ! 
 O earth, conceal us from this awful doom!" 
 Falling upon their knees, and with their nails 
 Tearing the rocky ground, striving to find 
 A screen, a hiding place, an instant's grace 
 From the dread sentence which awaited them. 
 Vain, vain pursuit : All now was past for aye, 
 Those, who had crucified Him, and had laughed 
 In mockery at Him suffering on the cross, 
 Had pierced Him, tortured Him until He died, 
 Knew the great face again ; then rose their screams 
 " Christ, was it Thou ? Oh ! God we never knew 
 Or dreamt, that He, who died on that foul cross, 
 Was God's eternal ofi"spring ! forgive !" 
 And then their teeth bit through the tight-drawn 
 
 lips, 
 Until the agony grew so intense 
 
 T
 
 274 ECCE HOMO. 
 
 They strove to tear, with terror-stiiFened hands, 
 The eyeballs straining and most nigh to crack ! 
 This poor, poor wish was futile, and their ears 
 Heard thrilling from the Saints who thronged 
 
 Him round, 
 " Behold the Man ! the risen Son of G-od !" 
 
 And then the Elders with the golden harps 
 Hymned forth the name " Jehovah," and the 
 
 Heaven 
 Swelled with a burst of music far beyond 
 All that has been and all that e'er shall be. 
 Then rose the recording angel, and he called 
 Upon the name of one within that throng ; 
 So forth there stept an aged form, and bowed : 
 Yet now upon his features shone a joy 
 Unutterable, as if the Father's grace 
 His soul had caught a part of, and he spake 
 The actions of his life, gazing the while 
 Upon the features of the King of Kings ;
 
 ECCE HOMO. 275 
 
 Then I beheld, how that his face waxed sad 
 "Wlien e'er he told an evil thought or word ; 
 Still had he striven against the curse of sin, 
 And as he spoke a smile bi'oke o'er the face 
 Of the great Lord of Lords, and as the man 
 Ceased from his count, I heard a voice come forth, 
 Forth from the mouth of Him upon the throne — 
 " Come, come, most blessed, to the blissful home 
 Prepared for thee since first the world began." 
 And then the Elders standing round the throne 
 Caught up the burden, till the arc of heaven 
 Seemed rent with joy, " Come, come, thou blest of' 
 
 God, 
 Enter the kingdom of eternal weal!" .. > 
 So then they robed him too in white, 
 And crossing to the right he stood beside 
 The King of d lory. Now, I saw a crowd 
 Clad in white raiment, and with amaranth 
 Twined round their brows who never ceased to cry, 
 " Lord, now avenge us on our enemies !"
 
 276 ECCE HOMO. 
 
 Tliese knew I well, tliey were tlie righteous souls 
 Wlio suffered martyrdom for Jesus' sake 
 Gladly and willingly, these ever cry 
 To Him who sits upon the throne 
 " Vengeance is due, Lord, and take the fill." 
 Then turned I, and lo ! another name 
 Was spoken by the angel, and a man, 
 Shrinking in terror, was constrained to come 
 Forth from the mass ; not like the former face 
 rilled with a joy celestial, his wore 
 A look of unfeigned anguish, " Lord," he cried, 
 " As thou art merciful spare, spare me now ! 
 Jesus, Saviour, spare me !" But a frown 
 Hung on the Almighty's features as he spake : 
 " Oh man, if this be thy request, fii-st state 
 The sum of thy good deeds upon the earth, — 
 Thy works from birth to death." So then he was 
 Compelled to teU the number of his sins ; 
 How that in fear of man and not of God 
 He passed his years in wantonness and vice ;
 
 ECCE HOMO. 
 
 277 
 
 Wliat had he given if earth could blot him out 
 
 Aud hide him from the anger of the Lamb ! 
 
 Then cried I to the angel standing by, 
 
 " My Lord, what is the doom of him who speaks ?" 
 
 And silently he pointed to the spot 
 
 Where Lucifer was standing with a smile 
 
 Of bitter trivmiph on his evil face. 
 
 " Thou see'st yon, enough !" Meanwhile the man 
 
 Finished the catalogue of heinous crimes, 
 
 And, with a wailing, pitying cry for grace, 
 
 He fell flat forward. But then spake the voice 
 
 Of dread Jehovah. " Man, thy doom is just. 
 
 "When I was houseless, didst thou hai-bour me ? 
 
 When I was sick, didst thou then pity me ? 
 
 Depart from me, accursed, to the flames 
 
 Of endless torment, to the place without. 
 
 Where ever thou must live in lingering death." 
 
 Then was he gathered to the left, and stood 
 
 Bedewed in sorrow, now, alas ! too late. 
 
 So followed all the myriads standing round—
 
 278 ECCE HOMO. 
 
 Some doomed to torment, and some told, for joy, — 
 And swift passed time to me while in my dream, — 
 Until all there had bowed to God's command. 
 Then Michael the Archangel once again 
 Sounded his trump, and with a living shout, 
 Those standing on the right before the throne 
 Were caught up with the myriads of saints 
 Into the expanse of firmament above, 
 And every saint bore in his hand a harp, 
 From which resounded strains that told how glad 
 Felt the ptire hearts they sprung from. There was 
 
 one, 
 One group of female saints of beauty far 
 Beyond our earthly standard, but though now 
 Their features were so radiant I knew 
 Them once again, and scarce could I restrain 
 My voice from crying, " Martyrs, blest ai'e ye !" 
 Long after these I gazed, and quite forgot 
 Those on the left, until he clad in white 
 Who stood beside me, oped his grave-drawn lips :
 
 ECCE HOMO. 279 
 
 " Sinner, mark well tlie doom of those who stand 
 
 Full on the edge of the abysmal pit 
 
 From which is exit never. These are they 
 
 Who scoffed at Jesus, mocked His holy truths, 
 
 Lived in the atmosphere of self-deceit ; 
 
 This is their end ! Ages must onward roll, 
 
 Ages on ages, yet shall they be found 
 
 Still feeliag as acutely every pang, 
 
 Each fond remembrance of the ruined past ; 
 
 The future lost but by their evil deeds. 
 
 The grace turned from them by the lack of prayer, 
 
 And these thoughts shall be worse, ay fifty times 
 
 Worse, than the bitterest tortures HeU contains. 
 
 Tet dream not these are scanty ! Eire and death, 
 
 Ever consuming bodies unconsumed, 
 
 Shall rack their vitals. Then and not till then, 
 
 When the forgotten hopes and fears of Time 
 
 Arc swallowed in the vast eternity. 
 
 They will repent. Oh ! but a warning take, 
 
 Retrace thy footsteps ere it be too late !
 
 280 ECCE HOMO. 
 
 For surely, as tliat judgment shall appear 
 Upon this earth, so surely is it fixed 
 Sin shall receive what punishment is due." 
 Then looked I on the faces of the souls 
 Striving to striaggle from the yaw^ning gulf. 
 But, if perchance, one gained the edge, a fiend 
 Plew close to him and rudely hurled him back. 
 So too, all those who had not reached the brink 
 Strove to escape it, though the devils hung 
 Thickly around them, barring every hope. 
 One there was who had firmly grasped the side 
 And clung thereto in mortal agony. 
 And as the grinning fiend held him tight 
 I saw each straining nerve and sinew crack 
 By reason of the tension, till his force 
 Could bear no longer, and he backwards fell 
 With one long shriek into that fiery gulf! 
 
 And there were many gazing at the heaven 
 With eyes fixed on the glory that was there,
 
 ECCE HOMO. 281 
 
 Wailing, " blessed ! come and aid us now, 
 One drop of water would relieve, one drop !" 
 Then finding no response, they would blaspheme 
 In such foul terms that it were death to hear ! 
 
 Then turned I my sickened eyes away 
 
 And fixed them on the blessed, and the voice 
 
 Sprung from the throne resounded saying, " Hail ! 
 
 Servants of Grod, yoiirs be the bliss for ever !" 
 
 And all the winged armies of the skies 
 
 Swelled the great shout, " Tours be the bliss for 
 
 ever !" 
 Then from the throne there burst a living flame, 
 And the earth shrivelling, melted aU away ; 
 The heavens expanded, and a glorious home 
 Was opened to my sight, whereto the blest 
 Ascended one and all, with Clu-ist before 
 Leading them to their rest ; and as they rose 
 The Heavenly Home grew brighter, while they 
 
 sung :
 
 282 ECCE HOMO. 
 
 " Hail ! Hail ! glory all glory to the Lamb ! 
 Tliou art the King, the Lord and God of Kings ! 
 HaU! Hail! Eedeemer, Christ, Jehovah, God!" 
 Thus singing, passed the mighty host from sight, 
 And looking round, the seraph who had stood 
 So late beside me, he had vanished too. 
 And then cried I, " Blessed are ye in truth !" 
 But with a start, I woke from out my dream !
 
 tiin.^^B. 
 
 0]S' of the MorniBg, like Heaven awak- 
 
 -'o> 
 
 mg 
 
 "With the sweet dawn to the fulness of 
 light, 
 So Thy bright grace on our spirits is breaking, 
 Chasing away sin's dark shadows and niglit. 
 
 Human Eedeemer, in flesh as a mortal, 
 
 Though in truth Thou wast God of Thy recreant 
 
 race, 
 Thou passedst from Heaven through death's 
 
 gloomy portal, 
 To win for Thy ransomed a glorious place.
 
 284 STANZAS. 
 
 Hell sought in vain in its chains to enthrall Thee, 
 Thou wast beyond the dominion of death ; 
 
 Nor sorrow, nor shame could dismay or appal Thee, 
 Thou sighedst for man Thy last faintly drawn 
 breath. 
 
 When on the cross in Thy pain Thou wast dying, 
 Satan rejoiced that his Master was dead, 
 
 But when beneath the dark earth Thou wast lying, 
 Angels watched over Thy ever-blest Head ! 
 
 Those whom Thou lov'dst, o'er Thy sufferings were 
 weeping. 
 
 Mourning their Lord, and e'en sharing His pain, 
 Thou in the grave's quiet chamber wast sleeping, 
 
 Soon to emerge in Thy glory again !
 
 "S4 ««<! faint ]mt" 
 
 ET the faint heart arise 
 
 To face the thorny way, 
 And see with hopeful eyes 
 The dawning of the day. 
 
 And let that way appear, 
 Though troubles thickly lower, 
 
 The path to lead us near, 
 Nearer to Him each hour. 
 
 To draw us near to Heaven, 
 To endless, endless rest. 
 
 Oh let that rest be given, 
 A place among the blest !
 
 286 " LET THE FAINT HEAET. 
 
 Oil ! let the weary heart 
 Eind evermore its peace, 
 
 Its earthly cares depart, 
 Its mortal sorrows cease.
 
 (9uii Jlorcffi ^uiijg into JiJiiUHitkjit 
 
 OSANjS'A ! cried tlie crowd, and in a 
 rapturous shout 
 Fortli poured their welcome to the 
 livdag God, 
 Prom the green pahn-trees, budding o'er the way 
 And ripe with blossom, the thick sprays down pulled, 
 They strewed a carpet from fair Nature's woof 
 For Him who made them. Tar as the eye could reach 
 Joyful they came, old patriarchs on their staves 
 "Weak leaning, yet who came in hope and love 
 To meet their Saviour, matrons with their sons 
 Fast clinging to the dress and peeping forth 
 In baby wonderment ; young men and maida
 
 288 OUR loed's ei^tet into jeeusalem. 
 
 In vast array poured down the sunny slopes 
 Spread o'er witli vines. The balmy summer air 
 Vibrates with sound, deep-drawn, as some huge bell 
 Peals forth its waves of living sound along 
 The silent streets. Hark, hark, they cry again 
 ' Messiah comes ! Hosanna to the Lord !' 
 He came, He came, not as their fathers dreamt 
 He would have come, in pride, but lower far 
 Than e'en His creatures, riding on an ass ; 
 Peaceful His look, yet the majestic mien 
 And tempered justice in the kindly eye 
 Showed, that although He came to save, not slay. 
 He well beseemed the part of King of Kings ! 
 Athwart the sun like a vast crimson lake 
 Cast a red glow upon the town beneath, 
 The domes and cupolas shone rosy bright 
 With the departing rays as down they came, 
 And all the throng with shouting filled the air. 
 But as He gazed upon the homes below. 
 And thought on all the misery and woe
 
 OUR lord's 1;>'^TRT into JERUSALEM. 2S9 
 
 That would afflict His creatures when the sword 
 And famine bowed the now triumphant heads, 
 A tear stood in His eye ; He knew that they, 
 Who now so rapturously hymned His praise 
 In swelling notes until the Heavens rang. 
 Would in a few short days grow hard of heart, 
 And all their love would lose its gentle force 
 At sight of opposition, and that these 
 Would be the first to claim His guiltless life. 
 Would be the cruellest among His foes. 
 Seeking His blood ; and as He thought of this 
 The dewy drops stole slowly dovra His cheeks, 
 And Jesus wept, wept for His murderers, 
 (Murderers to be, although they loved Him then) 
 Because He pitied their poor darkened eyes, 
 They knew not what they did. But ever still 
 Arose the same triumphant cry of joy, 
 " Messiah hail ! He comes, He comes to reign, 
 Of whom the prophets spake in times of old, 
 Hosanna to the Lord !" So the array 
 
 u
 
 290 QUE lord's ENTBT HfTO JERUSALEM. 
 
 Poured onward stream-like, till it reached tlie gates ; 
 And as He set His foot within the walla 
 The sun sank down behind a bank of clouds, 
 As if to hide its grief, to shut its face 
 For ever from the coming scene of woe. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 G. NORMAN, PRINTER, MAIDEN LANE, CONVENT GARDEN.
 
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