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, go, I go, Give way!-the booming surge, the tempest's roar, The sea-bird's wail, shall vex my soul no more. THE EFFIGIES. Der rasche Kampf verewigt einen Mann: preiset ihn das Lied. GOETHE. 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 sung of thee? 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? |