3. But yet I cannot hate-O! there were hours When I could hang forever on his eye, And time, who stole with silent swiftness by, The memory of our loves will ne'er depart ; I would, with kindness, all my wrongs repay, 1. WHO will believe? not I for in deceiving Lies the dear charm of life's delightful dream ; I cannot spare the luxury of believing That all things beautiful are what they seem. 2. Who will believe that, with a smile whose blessing Would, like the patriarch's, soothe a dying hour; With voice as low, as gentle, and caressing, As e'er won maiden's lip in moonlight bower; With look like patient Job's, eschewing evil; With motions graceful as a bird's in air; Thou art, in sober truth, the veriest devil That e'er clinched fingers in a captive's hair? 3. That in thy veins there springs a poison fountain, Deadlier than that which bathes the upas-tree; And in thy wrath, a nursing cat o' mountain Is calm as her babe's sleep compared with thee? 4. And underneath that face like summer's ocean's, Its lip as moveless, and its cheek as clear, Slumbers a whirlwind of the heart's emotions, Love, hatred, pride, hope, sorrow- - all, save fear. for thy land, as if she were thy daughter, Her pipes in peace, her tomahawk in wars; Love Hatred of missionaries and cold water; Pride in thy rifle-trophies and thy scars; Hope that thy wrongs will be by the Great Spirit LESSON CXV. The Closing Year. - GEORGE D. PRENTICE. 1. 'Tis midnight's holy hour- and silence now Is brooding, like a gentle spirit, o'er The still and pulseless world. Hark! on the winds 2. No funeral train Is sweeping past; yet, on the stream and wood, Young Spring, bright Summer, Autumn's solemn form, In mournful cadences, that come abroad Like the far wind-harp's wild and touching wail, Gone from the earth forever. 3. 'T is a time For memory and for tears. Within the deep, And holy visions that have passed away, 4. That specter lifts The coffin-lid of hope, and joy, and love, Sweet forms that slumber there, scatters dead flowers 5. The year Has gone, and, with it, many a glorious throng 6. It laid its pallid hand Upon the strong man—and the haughty form It trod the hall of revelry, where thronged 7. It passed o'er The battle-plain, where sword and spear and shield 8. It came And faded like a wreath of mist at eve; It heralded its millions to their home, 9. Remorseless Time, Fierce spirit of the glass and scythe,-what power Can stay him in his silent course, or melt His iron heart to pity? On, still on He presses, and forever. 10. The proud bird, The condor of the Andes, that can soar Through heaven's unfathomable depths, or brave The fury of the northern hurricane, And bathe his plumage in the thunder's home, Furls his broad wings at nightfall, and sinks down To rest upon his mountain-crag, but Time Knows not the weight of sleep or weariness, And night's deep darkness has no claim to bind 11. Revolutions sweep O'er earth, like troubled visions o'er the breast Like bubbles on the water; fiery isles Spring, blazing, from the ocean, and go back To their mysterious caverns; mountains rear And, like the Pleiad, loveliest of their train, 12. Yet Time Time, the tomb-builder holds its fierce career, Dark, stern, all-pitiless, and pauses not Amid the mighty wrecks that strew his path, 1. As o'er the verdant waste I guide my steed, Among the high, rank grass that sweeps his sides, The hollow beating of his footstep seems A sacrilegious sound. I think of those Upon whose rest he tramples. Are they here - And burn with passion? 2. Let the mighty mounds That overlook the rivers, or that rise In the dim forest, crowded with old oaks, Answer. A race that long has passed away Built them; -a disciplined and populous race Heaped, with long toil, the earth, while yet the Greek Of symmetry, and rearing on its rock The glittering Parthenon. These ample fields * Pentelicus was a mountain of Attica, famous for its quarries of beautiful marble. The Temple of Minerva. Nourished their harvests; here their herds were fed, 3. All day this desert murmured with their toils, From instruments of unremembered form, 4. The red man came, The roaming hunter-tribes, warlike and fierce, - Has settled where they dwelt. The prairie-wolf 5. The brown vultures of the wood Flocked to those vast, uncovered sepulchers, Lurking in marsh and forest, till the sense Bitterer than death, yielded himself to die. -- 6. Man's better nature triumphed. Kindly words 7. Thus change the forms of being. Thus arise Races of living things, glorious in strength, *Bison is the proper name of the animal in the prairies commonly called the Buffalo. The real buffalo is found in India. It burrows + The gopher is an animal about the size of a squirrel. in the earth, throwing up hillocks twelve or eighteen inches high. It is very mischievous in corn-fields and gardens. |