Were there not friends with words of cheer, And princely vassals nigh? A peasant girl that royal head Upon her bosom laid, And, shrinking not for woman's dread, Alone she sat:-from hill and wood Fast gush'd the fount of noble blood- With her long hair she vainly press'd TO THE MEMORY OF HEBER. "Umile in tanta gloria." PETRARCH. lr it be sad to speak of treasures gone, Hath not thy voice been here amongst us heard? And that deep soul of gentleness and power, Have we not felt its breath in every word, Wont from thy lip, as Hermon's dew, to shower? Yes, in our hearts thy fervent thoughts have burn'd— Of heaven they were, and thither have return'd. How shall we mourn thee?-With a lofty trust, Our life's immortal birthright from above! With a glad faith, whose eye, to track the just, Through shades and mysteries lifts a glance of love, And yet can weep!—for nature thus deplores The friend that leaves us, though for happier shores. And one high tone of triumph o'er thy bier, Not to decay, but unto death hast bow'd; Praise for yet one more name with power endow'd, Thine, Heber, thine; whose memory from the dead, ST. ASAPH, Sept. 1826. THE ADOPTED CHILD. "WHY wouldst thou leave me, O gentle child? Where many an image of marble gleams, "Oh! green is the turf where my brothers play, Through the long bright hours of the summer day; They find the red cup-moss where they climb, And they chase the bee o'er the scented thyme, And the rocks where the heath-flower blooms they know Lady, kind lady! O, let me go." "Content thee, boy! in my bower to dwell, Harps which the wandering breezes tune, "Oh! my mother sings, at the twilight's fall, 66 Thy mother is gone from her cares to rest, She hath taken the babe on her quiet breast; Thou would'st meet her footstep, my boy, no more, Come thou with me to the vineyards nigh, "Is my mother gone from her home away?— But I know that my brothers are there at playI know they are gathering the foxglove's bell, Or the long fern leaves by the sparkling well; Or they launch their boats where the bright streams flow Lady, kind lady! O, let me go." "Fair child, thy brothers are wanderers now, "Are they gone, all gone from the sunny hill?- And the waters leap, and the fresh winds blow- VOL. V.-24 INVOCATION. "I call'd on dreams and visions, to disclose That which is veil'd from waking thought; conjured To appear and answer." WORDSWORTH. ANSWER me, burning stars of night! That past the reach of human sight, As a swift breeze hath flown? And the stars answer'd me- 66 In light and power on high; But, of the never-dying soul, Ask that which cannot die." We roll Oh! many-toned and chainless wind! Tell me if thou its place canst find, Ye clouds, that gorgeously repose The bright clouds answer'd-"We depart, Ask what is deathless in thy heart, For that which cannot die." |