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And the fire-fly's glance thro' the darkening shades, Like shooting stars in the forest-glades,
And the scent of the citron at eve's dim fall
Speak! have ye known, have ye felt them all ?
The heavy rolling surge! the rocking mast!
Oh! the glad sounds of the joyous earth!
The notes of the singing cicala's mirth,
I hear them!-around me they rise, they swell,
The white foam dashes high-away, away!
It is there !-down the mountains I see the sweep
Of the chestnut forests, the rich and deep,
Give way!-the booming surge, the tempest's roar, The sea-bird's wail, shall vex my soul no more.
Der rasche Kampf verewigt einen Mann:
preiset ihn das Lied.
WARRIOR! whose image on thy tomb,
With shield and crested head,
Sleeps proudly in the purple gloom
By the stain'd window shed; The records of thy name and race
Have faded from the stone,
Yet, thro' a cloud of years I trace
What thou hast been and done,
A banner, from its flashing spear
Flung out o'er many a fight, A war-cry ringing far and clear,
And strong to turn the flight ; An arm that bravely bore the lance
On for the holy shrine ; A haughty heart and a kingly glance-
Chief! were not these things thine :
A lofty place where leaders sate
Around the council-board-,
In festive halls a chair of state
When the blood-red wine was pour'd ;
A name that drew a prouder tone
From herald, harp, and bard ;Surely these things were all thine own,
So hadst thou thy reward.
Woman! whose sculptur'd form at rest
By the armed knight is laid,
With meek hands folded o'er a breast
In matron robes array'd ; What was thy tale ?-Oh! gentle mate
Of him, the bold and free,
Bound unto his victorious fate,
What bard hath
He wooed a bright and burning star
Thine was the void, the gloom, The straining eye that follow'd far
His fast receding plume ; The heart-sick listening while his steed
Sent echoes on the breeze ;
The pang—but when did Fame take heed
Of griefs obscure as these?