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, 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? The love that lived through all the stormy past, And meekly with my harsher nature bore, And deeper grew, and tenderer to the last, Shall it expire with life, and be no more? A happier lot than mine, and larger light, In cheerful homage to the rule of right, And lovest all, and renderest good for ill. For me, the sordid cares in which I dwell, Shrink and consume my heart, as heat the scroll; And wrath has left its scar-that fire of hell Has left its frightful scar upon my soul. Yet though thou wear'st the glory of the sky, Shalt thou not teach me, in that calmer home, The wisdom which is love-till I become Thy fit companion in that land of bliss? THE DEATH OF SCHILLER. 'Tis said, when Schiller's death drew nigh, The wish possessed his mighty mind, To wander forth wherever lie The homes and haunts of human-kind. Then strayed the poet, in his dreams, Walked with the Pawnee, fierce and stark, The peering Chinese, and the dark How could he rest? even then he trod The threshold of the world unknown; Already, from the seat of God, A ray upon his garments shone ; |