Dwelt on with love; and till that fatal dream
Came o'er thee!-Aymer! Aymer!-thou wert still
The most true-hearted brother!-there thou art
Whose breast was once my shield!—I never thought
That foes should see me weep! but there thou art,
Aymer, my brother!
Mor. (suddenly rising.) With his last, last breath He bade me save his brother!
[Falling at her father's feet. Father, spare
That slew thy father's son!-Shame to thy race!
[To the Soldiers in the background.
Soldiers! come nearer with your levell'd spears!
Yet nearer;-Gird him in!-my boy's young blood
Is on his sword.-Christian, abjure thy faith,
Or die-thine hour is come!
Rai. (turning and throwing himself on the weapons of the Soldiers.) Thou hast mine answer, Infidel!
[Calling aloud to the Knights as he falls back. Knights of France! Herman! De Foix! Du Mornay! be ye strong! Your hour will come !
Must the old war-cry cease? [Half raising himself, and waving the Cross
For the Cross-De Chatillon !
Something whereunto I may bind my heart:
Something to love, to rest upon, to clasp
Affection's tendrils round.
WOULD'ST thou wear the gift of immortal bloom?
Would'st thou smile in scorn at the shadowy tomb?
Drink of this cup! it is richly fraught
With balm from the gardens of genii brought;
Drink, and the spoiler shall pass thee by,
When the young all scatter'd like rose leaves lie.
And would not the youth of my soul be gone,
If the loved had left me, one by one?
Take back the cup that may never bless,
The gift that would make me brotherless;
How should I live, with no kindred eye
To reflect mine immortality?
Would'st thou have empire, by sign or spell,
Over the mighty in air that dwell?
Would'st thou call the spirits of shore and steep
To fetch thee jewels from ocean's deep?
Wave but this rod, and a viewless band,
Slaves to thy will, shall around thee stand.
And would not fear, at my coming then,
Hush every voice in the homes of men?
Would not bright eyes in my presence quail?
Young cheeks with a nameless thrill turn pale?
No gift be mine that aside would turn
The human love for whose founts I yearn!
Would'st thou then read through the hearts of those
Upon whose faith thou hast sought repose?
Wear this rich gem! it is charm'd to show
When a change comes over affection's glow;
Look on its flushing or fading hue,
And learn if the trusted be false or true!
Keep, keep the gem, that I still may trust,
Though my heart's wealth be but pour'd on dust!
Let not a doubt in my soul have place,
To dim the light of a loved one's face;
Leave to the earth its warm sunny smile-
That glory would pass could I look on guile!
Say, then, what boon of my power shall be,
Favour'd of spirits! pour'd forth on thee?
Thou scornest the treasures of wave and mine,
Thou wilt not drink of the cup divine,
Thou art fain with a mortal's lot to rest-
Answer me! how may I grace it best?
Oh! give me no sway o'er the powers unseen,
But a human heart where my own may lean!
A friend, one tender and faithful friend,
Whose thoughts' free current with mine may blend,
And leaving not either on earth alone,
Bid the bright calm close of our lives be one!
I Go, sweet friends! yet think of me
When spring's young voice awakes the flowers; For we have wander'd far and free
In those bright hours, the violet's hours.
I go; but when you pause to hear,
From distant hills, the Sabbath-bell
On summer-winds float silvery clear,
Think on me then-I loved it well!
Forget me not around your hearth,
When cheerly smiles the ruddy blaze,
For dear hath been its evening mirth
To me, sweet friends, in other days.
when music's voice is heard
To melt in strains of parting woe,
When hearts to love and grief are stirr'd,
Think of me then!-I go, I go!
"No more of talk where God or angel guest
With man, as with his friend, familiar used
To sit indulgent, and with him partake
Rural repast."
ARE ye for ever to your skies departed?
Oh! will ye visit this dim world no more?
Ye, whose bright wings a solemn splendour darted
Through Eden's fresh and flowering shades of yore?
Now are the fountains dried on that sweet spot,
And ye―our faded earth beholds you not!
Yet, by your shining eyes not all forsaken,
Man wander'd from his Paradise away;
Ye, from forgetfulness his heart to waken,
Came down, high guests! in many a later day,
And with the patriarchs, under vine or oak,
'Midst noontide calm, or hush of evening, spoke.
From you, the veil of midnight darkness rending,
Came the rich mysteries to the sleeper's eye,
That saw your hosts ascending and descending
On those bright steps between the earth and sky:
Trembling he woke, and bow'd o'er glory's trace,
And worshipp'd, awe-struck, in that fearful place.
By Chebar's' brook ye pass'd, such radiance wearing
As mortal vision might but ill endure;
Along the stream the living chariot bearing,
With its high crystal arch, intensely pure!
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