I saw her

eye

kindle with heavenly hope, I had her latest look of earthly love,

320
I felt her hand's last pressure. ...Son of Orleans!
I would not wish to live to know that hour,
When I could think upon a dear friend dead,
And weep not: but they are not bitter tears,
Not painful now; for Christ hath risen, first fruits
Of them that slept ; and we shall meet again, 326
Meet, not again to part: the Grave hath lost
It's victory

“ I remember as her bier
Went to the grave, a lark sprung up aloft,
And soar'd amid the sunshine, carolling 330
So full of joy, that to the mourner's ear
More mournfully than dirge or passing bell,
The joyous carol came, and made us feel
That of the multitude of beings, none
But man was wretched.

“ Then my soul awoke,
For it had slumber'd long in happiness, 336
And never feeling misery, never thought
What others suffer. I, as best I might,
Solaced the keen regret of Elinor ;
And much my cares avail'd, and much her son's,
On whom, the only comfort of her age,
She center'd now her love. A younger birth,
Aged nearly as myself was Theodore,
An ardent youth, who with the kindest care
Had sooth'd his sister's sorrow. We had knelt 345
By her death-bed together, and no bond
In closer union knits two human hearts
Than fellowship in grief.

339

• It chanced as once Beside the fire of Elinor I sat,

349 The night was comfortless, the loud blast howl’d, And as we drew around the social hearth, We heard the rain beat hard. Driven by the storm A warrior mark'd our distant taper's light; We heapt the fire, and spread the friendly board. • 'Tis a rude night;' the stranger cried : safe housed Pleasant it is to hear the pelting rain.

356 I too could be content to dwell in peace, Resting my head upon the lap of love, But that my country calls.

When the winds roar, Remember sometimes what a soldier suffers, 360 And think on Conrade.'

6. Theodore replied, • Success go with thee! Something we have known Of war, and tasted its calamity; And I am well content to dwell in peace, Albeit inglorious, thanking the good God 365 Who made me to be happy.'

66 Did that God' Cried Conrade, 'form thy heart for happiness, When Desolation royally careers Over thy wretched country? Did that God Form thee for Peace when Slaughter is abroad, 370 When her brooks run with blood, and Rape, and

Murder, Stalk through her flaming towns? Live thou in peace, Young man ! my heart is human : I must feel For what my brethren suffer.' While he spake Such mingled passions character'd his face 375 Of fierce, and terrible benevolence,

That I did tremble as I listen'd to him.
And in my heart tumultuous thoughts arose
Of high achievements, indistinct, and wild,
And vast, . . yet such they were as made me pant
As though by some divinity possess'd.

381

· But is there not some duty due to those
We love?' said Theodore ; . Is there an employ
More righteous than to cheer declining age,
And thus with filial tenderness repay

385 Parental care ?'

“ Hard is it,' Conrade cried, Ay, hard indeed, to part from those we love; And I have suffer'd that severest pang. I have left an aged mother; I have left One upon whom

my

heart has fasten'd all 390 Its dearest, best affections. Should I live Till France shall see the blessed hour of peace, I shall return; my heart will be content, My duties then will have been well discharged, And I may then be happy. There are those 395 Who deem such thoughts the fancies of a mind Strict beyond measure, and were well content, If I should soften down my rigid nature Even to inglorious ease, to honour me. But

pure of heart and high in self-esteem 400 I must be honour'd by myself: all else, The breath of Fame, is as the unsteady wind Worthless.'

“ So saying from his belt he took The encumbering sword. I held it, listening to him, And wistless what I did, half from the sheath 405

Drew forth its glittering blade. I gazed upon it,
And shuddering, as I touch'd its edge, exclaim'd,
How horrible it is with the keen sword
To gore the finely-fibred human frame! 409
I could not strike a lamb.

" He answer'd me
Maiden, thou sayest well. I could not strike
A lamb!..But when the merciless invader
Spares not grey age, and mocks the infant's shriek
As it doth writhe upon his cursed lance,
And forces to his foul embrace the wife 415
Even where her slaughter'd husband bleeds to death,
Almighty God! I should not be a man
If I did let one weak and pitiful feeling
Make mine arm impotent to cleave him down. 419
Think well of this, young man !' he cried, and took
The hand of Theodore ;'' think well of this;
As you are human, as you hope to live
In peace, amid the dearest joys of home,
Think well of this! You have a tender mother;
As
you
do wish that she
may

425 As you

would even to madness agonize To hear this maiden call on you in vain For help, and see her dragg’d, and hear her scream In the blood-reeking soldier's lustful grasp, 429 Think that there are such horrors ! that even now, Some city flames, and haply, as in Roan, Some famish'd babe on his dead mother's breast Yet hangs and pulls for food !..Woe be to those By whom the evil comes ! And woe to him, .. For little less his guilt, . .who dwells in peace, 435 When every arm is needed for the strife!'

die in peace,

When we had all betaken us to rest, Sleepless I lay, and in my mind revolved The high-soul'd warrior's speech. Then Madelon Rose in remembrance; over her the grave 440 Had closed; her sorrows were not register'd In the rolls of fame; but when the tears run down The widow's cheek, shall not her cry be heard In Heaven against the oppressor ? will not God In sunder smite the unmerciful, and break 445 The sceptre of the wicked?.. Thoughts like these Possess'd my soul, till at the break of day I slept; nor did my heated brain repose Even then; for visions, sent, as I believe, 449 From the Most-High, arose. A high-tower'd town Hemm'd in and girt with enemies, I saw, Where Famine on a heap of carcasses, Half envious of the unutterable feast, Mark'd the gorged raven clog his beak with gore. I turn’d me then to the besieger’s camp, 455 And there was revelry: a loud lewd laugh Burst on mine ear, and beheld the chiefs Sit at their feast, and plan the work of death. My soul grew sick within me; I look'd up, 459 Reproaching Heaven,.. lol from the clouds an arm As of the avenging Angel was put forth, And from his hand a sword, like lightning, fell.

“ From that night I could feel my burthen'd soui Heaving beneath incumbent Deity. I sate in silence, musing on the days

465 To come, unheeding and unseeing all Around me, in that dreaminess of thought