With solemn rites of blessing and of prayer, The door is opened; hark! that quick glad cry ; Carlo has waked, has waked, and is at play; The little sisters laugh and leap, and try To climb the bed on which the infant lay. And there he sits alone, and gayly shakes In his full hands, the blossoms red and white, And smiles with winking eyes, like one who wakes From long deep slumbers at the morning light. THE BATTLE-FIELD. ONCE this soft turf, this rivulet's sands, Ah! never shall the land forget How gushed the life-blood of her braveGushed, warm with hope and courage yet, Upon the soil they fought to save. Now all is calm, and fresh, and still, And talk of children on the hill, And bell of wandering kine are heard. No solemn host goes trailing by The black-mouthed gun and staggering wain; Men start not at the battle-cry, Oh, be it never heard again! Soon rested those who fought; but thou For truths which men receive not now, A friendless warfare! lingering long Yet nerve thy spirit to the proof, And blench not at thy chosen lot. The timid good may stand aloof, The sage may frown-yet faint thou not. Nor heed the shaft too surely cast, The foul and hissing bolt of scorn; For with thy side shall dwell, at last, The victory of endurance born. Truth, crushed to earth, shall rise again; The eternal years of God are hers; But Error, wounded, writhes with pain, And dies among his worshippers. Yea, though thou lie upon the dust, When they who helped thee flee in fear, Die full of hope and manly trust, Like those who fell in battle here. Another hand thy sword shall wield, THE FUTURE LIFE. How shall I know thee in the sphere which keeps When all of thee that time could wither sleeps For I shall feel the sting of ceaseless pain Will not thy own meek heart demand me there? My name on earth was ever in thy prayer, Shall it be banished from thy tongue in heaven? In meadows fanned by heaven's life-breathing wind, Wilt thou forget the love that joined us here ? |