The Two Monuments. They spoke of one whose life had been As a hidden streamlet's course, Bearing on health and joy unseen From its clear mountain-source: Whose young, pure memory, lying deep Whose gentle voice, too early called Had won for God the earth's, enthralled These were his victories—yet, enrolled The pastor of the mountain-fold To heaven, and to the peasant's hearth, A blessed household-sound; And finding lowly love on earth, Bright and more bright before me gleamed Till one sweet moonlight memory seemed Oh! how my silent spirit turned From those proud trophies nigh! How my full heart within me burned 219 220 The Huguenot's Farewell. I THE HUGUENOT'S FAREWELL. the threshold stone STAND upon I hear my native river moan; I see the night o'er my old forests fall. I look round on the darkening vale The low wind in its rising wail Hath a strange tone, a sound of other days. But I must rule my swelling breast: A sign is in the sky! Bright o'er yon grey rock's eagle-nest Shines forth a warning star-it bids me fly. My father's sword is in my hand, His deep voice haunts mine ear; He, tells me of the noble band Whose lives have left a brooding glory here. He bids their offspring guard from stain Their pure and lofty faith; And yield up all things, to maintain The cause for which they girt themselves to death. And I obey. I leave their towers Unto the stranger's tread, Unto the creeping grass and flowers, Unto the fading pictures of the dead. The Huguenot's Farewell. I leave their shields to slow decay, Their banners to the dust: I go, and only bear away Their old majestic name—a solemn trust! I go up to the ancient hills, Where chains may never be, Where leap in joy the torrent-rills, Where man may worship God, alone and free. There shall an altar and a camp Impregnably arise; There shall be lit a quenchless lamp, To shine, unwavering, through the open skies. And song shall midst the rocks be heard, While, thrilling to God's holy word, The mountain-pines in adoration bend. And there the burning heart no more Free currents thence, amidst the wilderness. Then fare thee well, my mother's bower! Farewell my father's hearth!- Perish my home! where lawless power Perish! let deathlike silence fall Upon the lone abode; Spread fast, dark ivy! spread thy pall;— 221 222 The Return. "H THE RETURN, AST thou come with the heart of thy childhood back; The free, the pure, the kind?” So murmured the trees in my homeward track, "Hath thy soul been true to its early love?" Whispered my native streams; "Hath the spirit nursed amidst hill and grove Still revered its first high dreams?" "Hast thou borne in thy bosom the holy prayer Of the child in his parent-halls?" Thus breathed a voice on the thrilling air, From the old ancestral walls. “Hast thou kept thy faith with the faithful dead, Whose place of rest is nigh? With the father's blessing o'er thee shed, With the mother's trusting eye?" Then my tears gushed forth in sudden rain, I bring not my childhood's heart again "I have turned from my first pure love aside, O bright and happy streams! Light after light, in my soul have died The dayspring's glorious dreams. The Message to the Dead. 223 "And the holy prayer from my thoughts hath passed The prayer at my mother's knee; Darkened and troubled I come at last, Home of my boyish glee! "But I bear from my childhood a gift of tears, To soften and atone; And oh! ye scenes of those blessed years, THE MESSAGE TO THE DEAD. THOU HOU'RT passing hence, my brother! earliest friend, farewell! Thou'rt leaving me, without thy voice, O my In a lonely home to dwell; And from the hills, and from the hearth, But thou, my friend, my brother! Thou'rt speeding to the shore Where the dirgelike tone of parting words And thou wilt see our holy dead, The lost on earth and main: Thou wilt be bound again! |