Choice Specimens of American Literature, and Literary Reader Part 55

"O, no! and when I watch'd by thee the while, And saw thy bright lip curling in thy dream, And thought of the dark stream In my own land of Egypt, the far Nile, How pray'd I that my father's land might be An heritage for thee!

"And now the grave for its cold breast hath won thee, And thy white, delicate limbs the earth will press; And, O, my last caress Must feel thee cold, for a chill hand is on thee.

How can I leave my boy, so pillow'd there Upon his cl.u.s.tering hair!"

She stood beside the well her G.o.d had given To gush in that deep wilderness, and bathed The forehead of her child until he laugh'd In his reviving happiness, and lisp'd His infant thought of gladness at the sight Of the cool plas.h.i.+ng of his mother's hand.

=_366._= UNSEEN SPIRITS.

The shadows lay along Broadway,-- 'Twas near the twilight tide,-- And slowly there, a lady fair Was waiting in her pride.

Alone walked she, yet viewlessly Walked spirits at her side.

Peace charmed the street beneath her feet, And honor charmed the air, And all astir looked kind on her, And called her good as fair; For all G.o.d ever gave to her, She kept with chary care.

She kept with care her beauties rare, From lovers warm and true; For her heart was cold to all but gold, And the rich came not to woo.

Ah, honored well, are charms to sell, When priests the selling do!

Now, walking there, was one more fair-- A slight girl, lily pale, And she had unseen company To make the spirit quail; 'Twixt want and scorn, she walked forlorn, And nothing could avail.

No mercy now can clear her brow For this world's peace to pray; For, as love's wild prayer dissolved in air, Her woman's heart gave way, And the sin forgiven by Christ in heaven By man is cursed alway.

=_Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, 1807-._= (Manual, pp. 503, 505, 519, 531.)

=_367._= LINES TO RESIGNATION.

There is no flock, however watched and tended But one dead lamb is there!

There is no fireside, howso'er defended, But has one vacant chair!

The air is full of farewells to the dying, And mournings for the dead; The heart of Rachel, for her children crying, Will not be comforted!

Let us be patient! these severe afflictions Not from the ground arise, But oftentimes celestial benedictions a.s.sume this dark disguise.

We see but dimly through the mists and vapors; Amid these earthly damps, What seem to us but sad, funereal tapers May be heaven's distant lamps.

There is no Death! What seems so is transition.

This life of mortal breath Is but a suburb of the life elysian, Whose portal we call Death.

She is not dead,--the child of our affection,-- But gone unto that school Where she no longer needs our poor protection, And Christ himself doth rule.

In that great cloister's stillness and seclusion, By guardian angels led, Safe from temptation, safe from sin's pollution, She lives, whom we call dead.

Day after day we think what she is doing In those bright realms of air; Year after year, her tender steps pursuing, Behold her grown more fair.

Thus do we walk with her, and keep unbroken The bond which nature gives, Thinking that our remembrance, though unspoken, May reach her where she lives.

Not as a child shall we again behold her; For when with raptures wild In our embraces we again enfold her, She will not be a child;

But a fair maiden, in her Father's mansion, Clothed with celestial grace; And beautiful with all the soul's expansion Shall we behold her face.

And though at times impetuous with emotion And anguish long suppressed, The swelling heart heaves, moaning like the ocean, That cannot be at rest,--

We will be patient, and a.s.suage the feeling We may not wholly stay; By silence sanctifying, not concealing, The grief that must have way.

From "The Seaside and The Fireside."

=_368._= THE WEDDING; THE LAUNCH; THE s.h.i.+P.

The prayer is said, The service read, The joyous bridegroom bows his head; And in tears the good old Master Shakes the brown hand of his son, Kisses his daughter's glowing cheek In silence, for he cannot speak, And ever faster Down his own the tears begin to run.

The worthy pastor-- The Shepherd of that wandering flock, That has the ocean for its wold, That has the vessel for its fold, Leaping ever from rock to rock-- Spake, with accents mild and clear, Words of warning, words of cheer, But tedious to the bridegroom's ear.

Then the Master, With a gesture of command, Waved his hand; And at the word, Loud and sudden there was heard, All around them and below, The sound of hammers, blow on blow, Knocking away the sh.o.r.es and spurs.

And see! she stirs!

She starts,--she moves,--she seems to feel The thrill of life along her keel, And, spurning with her foot the ground, With one exulting, joyous bound, She leaps into the ocean's arms!

And lo! from the a.s.sembled crowd There rose a shout, prolonged and loud, That to the ocean, seemed to say,-- "Take her, O bridegroom, old and gray, Take her to thy protecting arms, With all her youth and all her charms!"

How beautiful she is! How fair She lies within those arms, that press Her form with many a soft caress Of tenderness and watchful care!

Sail forth into the sea, O s.h.i.+p!

Through wind and wave, right onward steer!

The moistened eye, the trembling lip, Are not the signs of doubt or fear.

Sail forth into the sea of life, O gentle, loving, trusting wife, And safe from all adversity Upon the bosom of that sea Thy comings and thy goings be!

For gentleness and love and trust Prevail o'er angry wave and gust; And in the wreck of n.o.ble lives Something immortal still survives!

Thou, too, sail on, O s.h.i.+p of State!

Sail on, O Union strong and great!

Humanity with all its fears, With all the hopes of future years, Is hanging breathless on thy fate!

We know what master laid thy keel, What workman wrought thy ribs of steel, Who made each mast, and sail, and rope, What anvils rang, what hammers beat, In what a forge and what a heat Were shaped the anchors of thy hope!

Fear not each sudden sound and shock, 'Tis of the wave and not the rock; 'Tis but the flapping of the sail, And not a rent made by the gale!

In spite of rock and tempest-roar, In spite of false lights on the sh.o.r.e, Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea!

Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee, Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears, Our faith triumphant o'er our fears, Are all with thee,--are all with thee.

From "Evangeline."

=_369._= SONG OF THE MOCKING-BIRD, AT SUNSET.

Softly the evening came. The sun, from the western horizon, Like a magician, extended his golden wand o'er the landscape; Twinkling vapors arose; and sky and water and forest Seemed all on fire at the touch, and melted and mingled together.

Hanging between two skies, a cloud with edges of silver, Floated the boat, with its dripping oars, on the motionless water.

Filled was Evangeline's heart with inexpressible sweetness.