XC.

And calm'd I rose:-but how the while had risen
Morn's orient sun, dissolving mist and shade!
-Could there indeed be wrong, or chain, or prison,
In the bright world such radiance might pervade?
It fill'd the fane, it mantled the pale form
Which rose before me through the pictured storm,

Even the grey tombs it kindled, and array'd

With life!-how hard to see thy race begun,

And think man wakes to grief, wakening to thee, O sun!

XCI.

I sought my home again :—and thou, my child,

There at thy play beneath yon ancient pine,

With eyes, whose lightning laughter 10 hath beguil'd

A thousand pangs, thence flashing joy to mine;

Thou in thy mother's arms, a babe, didst meet

My coming with young smiles, which yet, though sweet, Seem'd on my soul all mournfully to shine,

And ask a happier heritage for thee,

Than but in turn the blight of human hope to see.

XCII.

Now sport, for thou are free-the bright birds chasing,

Whose wings waft star-like gleams from tree to tree; Or with the fawn, thy swift wood-playmate racing,

Sport on, my joyous child! for thou art free!

Yes, on that day I took thee to my heart,

And inly vow'd, for thee a better part

To choose; that so thy sunny bursts of glee

Should wake no more dim thoughts of far-seen woe, But, gladdening fearless eyes, flow on-as now they flow.

XCIII.

Thou hast a rich world round thee:-Mighty shades
Weaving their gorgeous tracery o'er thy head,
With the light melting through their high arcades,
As through a pillar'd cloister's 11: but the dead

Sleep not beneath; nor doth the sunbeam pass
To marble shrines through rainbow-tinted glass;
Yet thou, by fount and forest-murmur led

To worship, thou art blest!—to thee is shown
Earth in her holy pomp, deck'd for her God alone.

E

THE FOREST SANCTUARY.

PART SECOND.

Wie diese treue liebe seele

Von ihrem Glauben Voll,

Der ganz allein

Ihr selig machend ist, sich heilig quäle,

Das sie den liebsten Mann verloren halten soll!

FAUST.

I never shall smile more-but all my days
Walk with still footsteps and with humble eyes,
An everlasting hymn within my soul.

WILSON.

I.

BRING me the sounding of the torrent-water,
With yet a nearer swell-fresh breeze, awake 12!
And river, darkening ne'er with hues of slaughter
Thy wave's pure silvery green,-and shining lake,
Spread far before my cabin, with thy zone

Of ancient woods, ye chainless things and lone!
Send voices through the forest aisles, and make
Glad music round

me, that my soul may dare,

Cheer'd by such tones, to look back on a dungeon's air!

II.

Oh, Indian hunter of the desert's race!
That with the spear at times, or bended bow,

Dost cross my footsteps in thy fiery chase
Of the swift elk or blue hill's flying roe;
Thou that beside the red night-fire thou heapest,
Beneath the cedars and the star-light sleepest,

Thou know'st not, wanderer-never may'st thou know !—
Of the dark holds wherewith man cumbers earth,
To shut from human eyes the dancing seasons' mirth.

III.

There, fetter'd down from day, to think the while
How bright in Heaven the festal sun is glowing,
Making earth's loneliest places, with his smile,
Flush like the rose; and how the streams are flowing
With sudden sparkles through the shadowy grass,
And water-flowers, all trembling as they pass;

And how the rich dark summer-trees are bowing
With their full foliage-this to know, and pine

Bound unto midnight's heart, seems a stern lot-'twas mine.