SPRAGUE. THE WINGED WORSHIPPERS. ADDRESSED TO TWO SWALLOWS THAT FLEW INTO THE CHAUNCEY PLACE CHURCH DURING DIVINE SERVICE. GAY, guiltless pair, What seek ye from the fields of heaven? Ye have no need of prayer, Ye have no sins to be forgiven. Why perch ye here, Where mortals to their Maker bend? Can your pure spirits fear Ye never knew The crimes for which we come to weep. To you 'tis given To wake sweet Nature's untaught lays; To chirp away a life of praise. Then spread each wing, Far, far above, o'er the lakes and lands, In yon blue dome not reared with hands. Or, if ye stay, To note the consecrated hour, Teach me the airy way, And let me try your envied power. Above the crowd, On upward wings could I but fly, "Twere Heaven indeed Through fields of trackless light to soar, THE BROTHERS. WE are but two-the others sleep Heart leaps to heart-the sacred flood That good old man-his honest blood We in one mother's arms were locked- In the same cradle we were rocked, Our boyish sports were all the same, Lit up so long ago. We are but two-be that the band Shoulder to shoulder let us stand, Till side by side we lie. And a mighty bell, each pause between, Strange was their mingling in the sky, There was hurrying through the midnight, A sound of many feet; But they fell with a muffled fearfulness And softer, fainter grew their tread, As it near'd the minster gate, Whence a broad and solemn light was shed From a scene of royal state. Full glow'd the strong red radiance For something lay 'midst their fretted gold, And within that rich pavilion, Seem'd with no pulse beneath to thrill, So stonelike was its rest! But a peal of lordly music When the burning gold of the diadem And from the encircling band Stepp'd prince and chief, 'midst the hush profound, With homage to her hand. Why pass'd a faint, cold shuddering Over each martial frame, As one by one, to touch that hand, Was not the settled aspect fair? Death! death! canst thou be lovely Unto the eye of life? Is not each pulse of the quick high breast It was a strange and fearful sight, The crown upon that head, The glorious robes, and the blaze of light, And beside her stood in silence And white lips rigidly compress'd, Lest the strong heart should fail: But on the face he looked not, |