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He bids me dry the last the first-
The only tears that ever burst
From Outallissi's soul;
Because I may not stain with grief
The death song of an Indian Chief
She, when all are still, Comes and undraws the curtain as they lie, In sleep how beautiful! He, when the sky Gleams, and the wood sends up its harmony, When gathering round his bed, they climb to share His kisses, and with gentle violence there Break in upon a dream not hulf so fair; Up to the hill top leads their little feet; Or by the forest-lodge, perchance to meet The stag herd on its march, perchance to fear The otter rustling in the sedgy mere; Or to the echo near the Abot's tree That gave him back his words of pleasantryWhen the House stood, no merrier man than he! And, as they wander with a keen delight, If but a leveret catch their quicker sight Down a green alley, or a squirrel then Climb the gnarled oak, and look and climb again,
If but a moth fit by, an acorn fall
He turns their thoughts to Him who made them aīl.
But man is born to suffer. On the door
Sickness hath set her mark; and now no more
Laughter within we hear, or wood-notes wild
As of a mother singing to her child.
All now in anguish from that room retire
Where a young cheek glows with consuming fire,
And innocence breathes contagion—all but one,
But she who gave it birth—from her alone
The medicine cup is taken. Through the night,
And through the day, that with its dreary light
Comes unregarded, she sits silent by,
Watches the changes with her anxious eye:
While they without, listening below, above
Who but in sorrow know how much they love ?
From every little noise catch hope and fear,
Exchanging still, still as they turn to hear,
Whispers and sighs, and smiles all tenderness
That would in vain the starting tear repress.
The waning moon displayed her gleaming hörns, When o'er th' unguarded bound of Asia's camp
Now pass'd the Grecians. Through the unnumbered
tents, Where all was mute and tranquil they pursue Their silent march. The eastern world around Lay stretched in slumber, motionless and deaf, Wrapt in the dead security of night, Nor marked the steps of Fate. The wary Greeks By Polydorus guided still proceed. Even to the centre of th extensive host Unseen they pierc'd, when now the imperial tent Yet distant rose before them. Wide around The broad pavilion stretch'd an ample space, Where myriads might embattle. Here a band of chosen Persians watchful round their king Held their nocturnal station. As the hearts Of anxious nations menaced with the waste Of meager famine, and the ruthless sword Sink in their frozen bosoms, while despair Sees fear engendered phantoms in the sky, Aerial hosts amid the clouds arrayed, Which seem to shake the firmament with war, Portending woe and death; the Persians thus Are smote with consternation, as the moon By her faint beam discovered from afar The glimpse of Grecian arms. With sudden cries They waken Horror, which to Xerxes' couch, And, o'er the astonished host, swift-winged flew Dispelling sleep and silence. All the camp
Pours forth its numbers, naked, pale, disarm'd,
Wild with amazement, blinded by dismay,
To every foe obnoxious; when at once
Plunged in ten thousand breasts the Grecian steel
Reeks with destruction. Deluges of blood
Float o'er the field, and foam around the heaps
Of wretched slain, unconscious of the hand
Which mows them down by legions.
Soon it spread
Waving, rushing, fierce, and red,
From wall to wall, from tower to tower,
Raging with resistless power
Till every fervent pillar glowed,
And every stone seem'd burning coal,
Instinct with living heat, that flowed
Like streaming radiance from the kindled pole.
Beautiful, fearful, grand,
Silent as death, I saw the fabric stand.
At length a crackling sound began;
From side to side, throughout the pile it rans
And louder yet. and louder grew
Till now in rattling thunder peals it flew.
Huge shivered fragments from the pillars broke,
Like fiery sparkles, from the anvil's stroke
The shattered walls were rent and riven
And piecemeal driven
Like blazing comets, through the troubled sky.
'Tis done ; what centuries had reared
In quick explosion disappeared,
Nor even its ruins met my wondering eye.
But in their place-
Bright with more than human grace,
Robed with more than mortal seeming,
Radiant glory in her face
And eyes with heav'ns own brightness beaming;
Rose a fair majestic form,
As the mild rainbow from the storm.
I mark'd her smile, I knew her eye;
And when with gesture of command
She waved aloft the cap-crown'd wand,
My slumbers fled mid shouts of “Liberty!"
the dream ? and know ye not
How truly it unlocked the word of fate ?
Went not the flame from this illustrious spot,
And spreads it not and burns in every state?
And when their old and cumbrous walls
Filled with this spirit, glow intense,
Vainly they rear their impotent defence
The fabric falls !
That servent energy must spread,