« AnkstesnisTęsti »
THE TEAR OF REPENTANCE.
[From "Lallah Rookh," an oriental romance.
ONE morn a Peri at the gate
The fabled Peri of the East closely corresponds to the Fairy of our legends.]
Through the half-open portal glowing, She wept to think her recreant race Should e'er have lost that glorious place!
How happy," exclaimed this child of air, Are the holy spirits who wander there, 'Mid flowers that never shall fade or fall! Though mine are the gardens of earth and sea,
Then swift his haggard brow he turned
Yet tranquil now that man of crime
One blossom of heaven out-blooms them Fell on the boy's, its lurid glance
The glorious angel who was keeping
The Peri yet may be forgiven,
The gift that is most dear to Heaven! Go, seek it, and redeem thy sin; 'Tis sweet to let the pardoned in!"
Rapidly as comets run
To the embraces of the sun,
And lighted earthward by a glance
Over the vale of Baalbec winging,
Met that unclouded, joyous gaze, As torches that have burnt all night Encounter morning's glorious rays.
But hark! the vesper call to prayer,
From Syria's thousand minarets!
Kneels, with his forehead to the south,
From purity's own cherub mouth;
And now! behold him kneeling there,
And hymns of joy proclaim through heaven
"Twas when the golden orb had set, While on their knees they lingered yet, There fell a light-more lovely far Than ever came from sun or star
Upon the tear that, warm and meek,
"Joy! joy!" she cried; "my task is done The gates are passed, and heaven is won!" MOORE.
A MOTHER'S LOVE.
A MOTHER'S Love! -how sweet the name! | Ten thousand voices answer, "No!"
PARTING OF HECTOR AND ANDROMACHE.
THE nurse stood near, in whose embraces Thou from this tower defend th' important
His only hope hung smiling at her breast,
Whom each soft charm and early grace
There Agamemnon points his dreadful host,
That pass Tydides, Ajax, strive to gain,
Fair as the new-born star that gilds the And there the vengeful Spartan fires his
Hung on his hand, and then dejected How would the sons of Troy, in arms re
Her bosom laboured with a boding sigh,
And the big tear stood trembling in her eye.
And Troy's proud dames, whose garments sweep the ground,
Attaint the lustre of my former name,
Too daring prince! ah, whither dost thou Should Hector basely quit the field of run?
Ah, too forgetful of thy wife and son! And think'st thou not how wretched we shall be
A widow I, a helpless orphan he!
My early youth was bred to martial pains, My soul impels me to th' embattled plains: Let me be foremost to defend the throne, And guard my father's glories, and my own. Yet come it will, the day decreed by fates(How my heart trembles while my tongue relates!)
For sure such courage length of life denies;
Oh, grant me, gods! ere Hector meets his And see thy warriors fall, thy glories end.
Some haughty Greek, who lives thy tears
Imbitters all thy woes, by naming me.
A thousand griefs shall waken at the name!
He spoke, and fondly gazing on her charms,
Restored the pleasing burden to her arms: Soft on her fragrant breast the babe she laid,
Hushed to repose, and with a smile surveyed.
The troubled pleasure soon chastised by fear,
She mingled with the smile a tender tear. The softened chief with kind compassion viewed,
Thus having spoke, th' illustrious chief And dried the falling drops, and thus pur
of Troy Stretched his fond arms to clasp the lovely
The babe clung crying to his nurse's breast, Scared at the dazzling helm and nodding crest.
Andromache! my soul's far better part! Why with untimely sorrows heaves thy heart?
No hostile hand can antedate my doom,
With secret pleasure each fond parent Till fate condemn me to the silent tomb.
And Hector hasted to relieve his child;
Fixed is the term to all the race of earth;
And placed the beaming helmet on the All sink alike, the fearful and the brave. No more but hasten to thy tasks at home; There guide the spindle, and direct the loom:
Then kissed the child, and lifting high in air,
Me glory summons to the martial sceneO thou! whose glory fills th' ethereal The field of combat is the sphere for men : Where heroes war, the foremost place I claim
And all ye deathless powers! protect my
Whole hosts may hail him with deserved Sought her own palace, and indulged her acclaim,
And say, This chief transcends his father's There, while her tears deplored the godlike fame:
While pleased amidst the general shouts of Through all the train the soft infection ran;
His mother's conscious heart o'erflows with joy.
And mourn the living Hector as the dead,
ADAM AND EVE IN THE GARDEN OF EDEN.
Now Morn, her rosy steps in the eastern | Tunes sweetest his love-laboured song; clime
Advancing, sowed the earth with orient Full-orbed the Moon, and with more pleaspearl,
When Adam waked, so customed....
He, with voice Mild as when Zephyrus on Flora breathes, Eve's hand soft touching, whispered thus: 66 Awake,
Shadowy sets off the face of things; in vain,
Whom to behold but thee, Nature's desire?
Attracted by thy beauty still to gaze.'
My fairest, my espoused, my latest found, Heaven's last, best gift, my ever new delight! Awake; the morning shines, and the fresh And on, methought, alone I passed through field Calls us; we lose the prime, to mark how That brought me on a sudden to the tree spring Of interdicted knowledge: fair it seemed,Much fairer to my fancy than by day: And, as I wondering looked, beside it stood What drops the myrrh, and what the One shaped and winged like one of those balmy reed,from Heaven How nature paints her colours,-how the By us oft seen; his dewy locks distilled bee Ambrosia on that tree he also gazed: And, 'O fair plant,' said he, with fruit surcharged!
Our tended plants,-how blows the citron grove,
Sits on the bloom extracting liquid sweet." Such whispering waked her, but with startled eye
On Adam; whom embracing, thus she spake:
EVE RELATES HER DREAM.
Deigns none to ease thy load, and taste thy sweet,
Nor God, nor Man? is knowledge so despised?
O sole in whom my thoughts find all Or envy, or what reserve, forbids to taste? repose, Forbid who will, none shall from me withhold
My glory, my perfection! glad I see
Thy face, and morn returned; for I this Longer thy offered good; why else set here?' night, This said, he paused not, but with ventur
He plucked, he tasted: me damp horror chilled
(If dreamed,) not, as I oft am wont, of thee, Works of day past, or morrow's next design; At such bold words vouched with a deed
But of offence and trouble, which my mind
But he thus, overjoyed: 'O fruit divine! Knew never till this irksome night. Me- Sweet of thyself, but much more sweet thought,