A small green isle, it seem'd no more,
Scarce broader than my dungeon floor,
But in it there were three tall trees,
And o'er it blew the mountain breeze,
And by it there were waters flowing,
And on it there were young flowers growing,
Of gentle breath and hue.
The fish swam by the castle wall,
And they seemed joyous each and all ;
The eagle rode the rising blast,
Methought he never flew so fast
As then to me he seemed to fly,
And then new tears came in my eye,
And I felt troubled-and would fain
I had not left my recent chain;
And when I did descend again,
The darkness of my dim abode
Fell on me as a heavy load;
It was as is a new-dug grave,
Closing o'er one we sought to save,
And yet my glance, too much opprest,
Had almost need of such a rest.
It might be months, or years, or days,
I kept no count-I took no note,
I had no hopes my eyes to raise,
And clear them of their dreary mote;
At last men came to set me free,
I ask'd not why, and reck'd not where,
It was at length the same to me,
Fettered or fetterless to be,
I learn'd to love despair.
And thus when they appear'd at last,
And all my bonds aside were cast,
These heavy walls to me had grown
A hermitage—and all my own!
And half I felt as they were come
To tear me from a second home:
With spiders I had friendship made,
And watch'd them in their sullen trade,
Had seen the mice by moonlight play,
And why should I feel less than they?
We were all inmates of one place,
And I, the monarch of each race,
Had power to kill-yet, strange to tell!
In quiet we had learn'd to dwell—
My very chains and I grew friends,
So much a long communion tends
To make us what we are:-even I
Regain'd my freedom with a sigh.
To sit on rocks, to muse o'er flood and fell,
To slowly trace the forest's shady scene
Where things that own not man's dominion dwell,
And mortal foot hath ne'er, or rarely been ;
To climb the trackless mountain all unseen,
With the wild flock that never needs a fold;
Alone o'er steeps and foaming falls to lean;
This is not solitude; 'tis but to hold
Converse with Nature's charms, and view her stores unroll'd,
But midst the crowd, the hum, the shock of men,
To hear, to see, to feel, and to possess,
And roam along the world's tired denizen,
With none to bless us, none whom we can bless; Minions of pleasure shrinking from distress! None that, with kindred consciousness endued,
If we were not would seem to smile the less, Of all that flatter'd, followed, sought and sued, This is to be alone; this, this is solitude!
Destruction of the Assyrians.
THE Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold; And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the
When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.
Like the leaves of the forest when summer is
That host with their banners at sunset were seen; Like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath
That host on the morrow lay wither'd and strown.
For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the
And breath'd on the face of the foe as he passed,
And the eyes of the sleepers wax'd deadly and chill, And their hearts but once heav'd, and for ever grew still.
And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide, But through it there roll'd not the breath of his pride;
And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf, And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf.
And there lay the rider distorted and pale,
With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail :
And the tents were all silent, the banners alone,
The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.
And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail; And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal; And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword,
Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord.
WHERE burns the loved hearth brightest,
Cheering the social breast?
Where beats the fond heart lightest,
Its humble hopes possessed?
Where is the smile of sadness,
Of meek-eyed patience born,
Worth more than those of gladness,
Which mirth's bright cheek adorn?
Pleasure is marked by fleetness
To those who ever roam,
While grief itself has sweetness
At Home, dear Home!
There blend the ties that strengthen
Our hearts in hours of grief,
The silver links that lengthen
Joy's visits, when most brief;
There eyes in all their splendour
Are vocal to the heart,
And glances, gay and tender,
Fresh eloquence impart;
Then dost thou sigh for pleasure ?
Oh do not wildly roam!
But seek that hidden treasure
At Home, dear Home!
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