Yet thy record on the sea,
Borne through battle high and free,
Long the red-cross flag shall be.
Sleep! oh, sleep!
A LYRE its plaintive sweetness poured
Forth on the wild wind's track;
The stormy wanderer jarred the chord,
But gave no music back.-
O Child of Song !
Bear hence to heaven thy fire:
What hopest thou from the reckless throng?
Be not like that lost lyre!
Not like that lyre !
A flower its leaves and odours cast
On a swift-rolling wave ;
The unheeding torrent darkly passed,
And back no treasure gave.-
O Heart of Love!
Waste not thy precious dower :
Turn to thine only home above!
Be not like that lost flower!
Not like that flower!
WE take each other by the hand, and we exchange a few words and looks of kindness, and we rejoice together for a few short moments: and then days, months, years intervene, and we see and know nothing of each other."-WASHINGTON IRVING.]
Two barks met on the deep mid-sea,
When calms had stilled the tide ;
A few bright days of summer glee
There found them side by side.
And voices of the fair and brave
Rose mingling thence in mirth ;
And sweetly floated o'er the wave
The melodies of earth.
Moonlight on that lone Indian main
Cloudless and lovely slept;
While dancing step and festive strain
Each deck in triumph swept.
And hands were linked, and answering eyes
With kindly meaning shone;
Oh! brief and passing sympathies,
Like leaves together blown!
A little while such joy was cast
Over the deep's repose,
Till the loud singing winds at last
Like trumpet-music rose.
And proudly, freely on their way
The parting vessels bore;
In calm or storm, by rock or bay,
To meet-oh, never more!
Never to blend in victory's cheer,
To aid in hours of woe:
And thus bright spirits mingle here,
Such ties are formed below!
SISTER! SINCE I MET THEE LAST
SISTER! since I met thee last,
O'er thy brow a change hath passed.
In the softness of thine eyes,
Deep and still a shadow lies;
From thy voice there thrills a tone
Never to thy childhood known;
Through thy soul a storm hath moved,
-Gentle sister! thou hast loved!
Yes! thy varying cheek hath caught
Hues too bright from troubled thought;
Far along the wandering stream
Thou art followed by a dream;
In the woods and valleys lone
Music haunts thee, not thine own.
Wherefore fall thy tears like rain?
-Sister thou hast loved in vain !
PILGRIM'S SONG TO THE EVENING STAR 229
Tell me not the tale, my flower!
On my bosom pour that shower!
Tell me not of kind thoughts wasted;
Tell me not of young hopes blasted;
Wring not forth one burning word,
Let thy heart no more be stirred !
Home alone can give thee rest.
-Weep, sweet sister! on my breast.
PILGRIM'S SONG TO THE EVENING STAR
O SOFT star of the west!
Gleaming far,
Thou'rt guiding all things home,
Gentle star!
Thou bring'st from rock and wave
The sea-bird to her nest,
The hunter from the hills,
The fisher back to rest.
Light of a thousand streams,
Gleaming far!
O soft star of the west!
Blessed star!
No bowery roof is mine,
No hearth of love and rest,
Yet guide me to my shrine,
O soft star of the west!
There, there my home shall be,
Heaven's dew shall cool my breast,
When prayer and tear gush free,
O soft star of the west!
O soft star of the west,
Gleaming far!
Thou'rt guiding all things home, Gentle star!
Shine from thy rosy heaven,
Pour joy on earth and sea! Shine on, though no sweet eyes Look forth to watch for me! Light of a thousand streams, Gleaming afar!
O soft star of the west!
Blessed star!
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