"Yes, I loved thee, long had loved thee, And alone the God above, He, who at that time sustained me, "Do not let these words displease thee; Life's sore battle soon will cease; I have fallen amid the conflict, But within my soul is peace. "It has been a fiery trial, But the fiercest pang is past; "Leonard will at times come to me, And thy father. I will try To be cheerful in his presence, As I was in days gone by. "Bitter has it been to leave him; "Let me go! my soul is wearied, "Let me go, ere courage faileth, THE BALLAD OF RICHARD BURNELL. From her seat rose Alice Woodvil, "Not in death alone, my brother, Would I aid thee in the strife; I would fain be thy sustainer "With the help of God, thy spirit "God will aid thee! We will hold thee By our love!-thou shalt not go!— And from out thy wounded spirit, We will pluck the thorns of woe. "Say not life has no more duties Which can claim thee! Where are then All the sinners; the neglected; All the weeping sons of men? "Ah, my friend, hast thou forgotten How we would instruct poor children, "God has not to me permitted Such great work of human love; He has marked me out a lower Path of duty where to move. "But to thee, His chosen servant, Is this higher lot allowed; He has brought thee through deep waters, Through the furnace, through the cloud; "He has made of thee a mourner, Like the Christ, that thou may'st rise To a purer height of glory, Through the pangs of sacrifice! "Tis alone of His appointing, That thy feet on thorns have trod; Suffering, woe, renunciation, Only bring us nearer God. "And when nearest Him, then largest The enfranchised heart's embrace: It was Christ, the Man rejected, Who redeemed the human race. "Say not, then, thou hast no duties;Friendless outcasts on thee call, And the sick and the afflicted, And the children, more than all. "Oh, my friend, rise up, and follow He has brought thee through affliction, Thus she spoke; and as from midnight So, within his dreary spirit, Young he died: but deeds of mercy And he left his worldly substance ARNOLD. TO A GIPSY CHILD BY THE SHORE. DOUGLAS, ISLE OF MAN. WHO taught this pleading to unpractis'd eyes? Who lent thee, child, this meditative guise? What clouds thy forehead, and fore-dates thy doom? Lo! sails that gleam a moment and are gone; The swinging waters, and the cluster'd pier. Not idly Earth and Ocean labour on, Nor idly do these sea-birds hover near. But thou whom superfluity of joy Wafts not from thine own thoughts, nor longings vain, Nor weariness, the full fed soul's annoy; Remaining in thy hunger and thy pain: Thou, drugging pain by patience; half averse From thine own mother's breast, that knows not thee; With eyes that sought thine eyes thou didst converse, And that soul-searching vision fell on me. Glooms that go deep as thine I have not known: What mood wears like complexion to thy woe?- |