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My little doves were taken away
And now, within the city prison
In mist and chillness pent,
For sounds of past content,—
The stir without, the glow of passion, —
Yet still, as on my human hand
Their chant is soft as on the nest
Beneath the sunny sky; For love, that stirred it in their breast,
Remains undyingly, And, 'neath the city's shade, can keep The well of music clear and deep.
106 TROUBADOUR SONG.
And love, that keeps the music, fills
So teach ye me the wisest part,
To me fair memories belong
For no regret, — but present song,
And very soon to break away,
Like types, in purer things than they
I will have hopes that cannot fade,
I will have humble thoughts, instead
My spirit and my God shall be
My seaward hill, my boundless sea.
TROUBADOUR SONG.— Mrs. Hemans.
The warrior crossed the ocean's foam
The maid was left in a smiling home,
His voice was heard where javelin-showers
Poured on the steel-clad line;
Her seat beneath the vine.
His shield was cleft, his lance was riven,
While she — the gentlest wind of heaven
Yet a thousand arrows passed him by, And again he crossed the seas;
As roses die, when the blast is come For all things bright and fair, —
HUMAN FRAILTY.— Conner.
Weak and irresolute is man,
The purpose of to-day,
To-morrow rends away.
The bow well bent and smart the spring,
Vice seems already slain;
And it revives again.
108 THE UNIVERSAL PRAYER.
Some foe to his upright intent Finds out his weaker part;
'T is here the folly of the wise,
Bound on a voyage of awful length,
And dangers little known,
Man vainly trusts his own.
But oars alone can ne'er prevail
THE UNIVERSAL PRAYER.— Pope.
Father of all! in every age,
In every clime, adored,
Jehovah, Jove, or Lord!
Thou great First Cause, least understood,
Who all my sense confined
And that myself am blind;
Yet gave me, in this dark estate,
To see the good from ill;
Left free the human will.
What conscience dictates to be done,
Or warns me not to do, This teach me more than hell to shun,
That, more than heaven pursue.
What blessings thy free bounty gives,
Let me not cast away;
Yet not to earth's contracted span Thy goodness let me bound;
Let not this weak, unknowing hand Presume thy bolts to throw,
If I am right, thy grace impart
Still in the right to stay;
To find that better way.
Save me alike from foolish pride,
Or impious discontent
Or aught thy goodness lent.
Teach me to feel another's woe;
To hide the fault I see; That mercy I to others show,
That mercy show to me.