His mother's image in fair face,
The infant love of all his race,
His martyred father's dearest thought,
My latest care-for whom I sought
To hoard my life, that his might be
Less wretched now, and one day free-
He, too, who yet had held untired
A spirit natural or inspired—
He, too, was struck, and day by day
Was withered on the stalk away.
O God! it is a fearful thing
To see the human soul take wing
In any shape, in any mood:
I've seen it rushing forth in blood;
I've seen it on the breaking ocean
Strive with a swollen, convulsive motion;
I've seen the sick and ghastly bed
Of sin, delirious with its dread;
But these were horrors-this was woe
Unmixed with such-but sure and slow.
He faded, and so calm and meek,
So softly worn, so sweetly weak,
So tearless, yet so tender-kind,
And grieved for those he left behind;
With all the while a cheek whose bloom
Was as a mockery of the tomb,
Whose tints as gently sunk away
As a departing rainbow's ray-
An eye of most transparent light,
That almost made the dungeon bright,
And not a word of murmur, not
A groan o'er his untimely lot-
A little talk of better days,
A little hope my own to raise ;
For I was sunk in silence-lost
In this last loss, of all the most.
And then the sighs he would suppress
Of fainting nature's feebleness,
More slowly drawn, grew less and less.
I listened, but I could not hear-
I called, for I was wild with fear;
I knew 't was hopeless, but my dread
Would not be thus admonished;
called, and thought I heard a sound-
I burst my chain with one strong bound,
And rushed to him: I found him not.
I only stirred in this black spot;
I only lived-I only drew
The accursed breath of dungeon-dew;
The last, the sole, the dearest link
Between me and the eternal brink,
Which bound me to my failing race,
Was broken in this fatal place.
One on the earth, and one beneath--
My brothers--both had ceased to breathe.
I took that hand which lay so still-
Alas! my own was full as chill;
I had not strength to stir or strive,
But felt that I was still alive-
A frantic feeling, when we know
That what we love shall ne'er be so.
I know not why
I had no earthly hope-but faith, And that forbade a selfish death.
What next befell me then and there
I know not well-I never knew.
First came the loss of light and air,
And then of darkness too.
I had no thought, no feeling-none:
Among the stones I stood a stone;
And was, scarce conscious what I wist,
As shrubless crags within the mist;
For all was blank, and bleak, and gray;
It was not night-it was not day;
It was not even the dungeon-light,
So hateful to my heavy sight;
But vacancy absorbing space,
And fixedness, without a place;
There were no stars, no earth, no time,
No check, no change, no good, no crime
But silence, and a stirless breath
Which neither was of life nor death-
A sea of stagnant idleness,
Blind, boundless, mute, and motionless.
A light broke in upon my brain—
It was the carol of a bird;
It ceased, and then it came again—
The sweetest song ear ever heard;
And mine was thankful till my eyes
Ran over with the glad surprise,
And they that moment could not see
I was the mate of misery;
But then, by dull degrees came back
My senses to their wonted track:
I saw the dungeon walls and floor
Close slowly round me as before;
I saw the glimmer of the sun
Creeping as it before had done;
But through the crevice where it came
That bird was perched as fond and tame,
And tamer than upon the tree-
A lovely bird with azure wings,
And song that said a thousand things,
And seemed to say them all for me!
I never saw its like before-
I ne'er shall see its likeness more.
It seemed, like me, to want a mate,
But was not half so desolate;
And it was come to love me when
None lived to love me so again,
And, cheering from my dungeon's brink,
Had brought me back to feel and think.
I know not if it late were free,
Or broke its cage to perch on mine;
But knowing well captivity,
Avoiding only, as I trod,
My brothers' graves without a sod⚫
For if I thought with heedless tread
My step profaned their lowly bed,
My breath came gaspingly and thick,
And my crushed heart fell blind and sick.
I made a footing in the wall:
It was not therefrom to escape,
For I had buried one and all
Who loved me in a human shape;
And the whole earth would henceforth bu
A wider prison unto me;
No child, no sire, no kin had I,
No partner in my misery.
I thought of this, and I was glad,
For thought of them had made me mad.
But I was curious to ascend
Sweet bird! I could not wish for thine- To my barred windows, and to bend
Or if it were, in winged guise,
A visitant from Paradise;
For-heaven forgive that thought, the while
Which made me both to weep and smile!-
I sometimes deemed that it might be
My brother's soul come down to me;
But then at last away it flew,
And then 't was mortal well I knew;
For he would never thus have flown,
And left me twice so doubly lone-
Lone as the corse within its shroud,
Lone as a solitary cloud,
A single cloud on a sunny day,
While all the rest of heaven is clear,
A frown upon the atmosphere,
That hath no business to appear
When skies are blue, and earth is gay.
A kind of change came in my fate-
My keepers grew compassionate.
know not what had made them so-
They were inured to sights of woe;
But so it was-my broken chain
With links unfastened did remain ;
And it was liberty to stride
Along my cell from side to side,
And up and down, and then athwart,
And tread it over every part;
And round the pillars one by one,
Returning where my walk begun-
Once more upon the mountains high
The quiet of a loving eye.
I saw them-and they were the same;
They were not changed, like me, in frame:
I saw their thousand years of snow
On high-their wide, long lake below,
And the blue Rhone in fullest flow;
I heard the torrents leap and gush
O'er channelled rock and broken bush;
I saw the white-walled distant town,
And whiter sails go skimming down;
And then there was a little isle,
Which in my very face did smile-
The only one in view;
A small, green isle, it seemed 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 descer.d 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.
Through the night, through the night,
Where the sea lifts the wreck, Land in sight, close in sight,
On the surf-flooded deck Stands the father so brave, Driving on to his grave Through the night!
It might be months, or years, or days--
I kept no count, I took no note-
I had no hope my eyes to raise,
And clear them of their dreary mote;
At last came men to set me free,
I asked not why, and recked not where; It was at length the same to me, Fettered or fetterless to be;
1 earned to love despair.
And thus, when they appeared 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 sacred home.
With spiders I had friendship made,
And watched 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 learned to dwell.
My very chains and I grew friends,
So much a long communion tends
To make us what we are:-
:-even I
Regained my freedom with a sigh.
THROUGH the night, through the night,
In the saddest unrest,
Wrapt in white, all in white,
With her babe on her breast,
Walks the mother so pale,
Staring out on the gale
Through the night!
THE KING OF DENMARK'S RIDE.
WORD was brought to the Danish king (Hurry!)
That the love of his heart lay suffering, And pined for the comfort his voice would bring;
(Oh! ride as though you were flying!) Better he loves each golden curl On the brow of that Scandinavian girl Than his rich crown jewels of ruby and pearl: And his rose of the isles is dying!
Thirty nobles saddled with speed ;
Each one mounting a gallant steed
Which he kept for battle and days of need;
(Oh! ride as though you were flying!) Spurs were struck in the foaming flank; Worn-out chargers staggered and sank; Bridles were slackened, and girths were burst, But ride as they would, the king rode first, For his rose of the isles lay dying!
His nobles are beaten, one by one;
They have fainted, and faltered, and homeward gone;
His little fair page now follows alone,
For strength and for courage trying! The king looked back at that faithful child; Wan was the face that answering smiled; They passed the drawbridge with clattering din,
Then he dropped; and only the king rode it Where his rose of the isles lay dying!
The king blew a blast on his bugle horn;
(Silence!)
No answer came; but faint and forlorn
An echo returned on the cold grey morn.
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