THE VOICE OF THE WAVES. 241 "Here to the quivering mast Despair hath wildly clung, The shriek upon the wind hath pass'd, "And the youthful and the brave 66 They are vanish'd from their place— -Alas! thou haughty deep! To think that so we pass, High hope, and thought, and mind, Even as the breath-stain from the glass, Leaving no sign behind! Saw'st thou nought else, thou main? Thou and the midnight sky? Nought save the struggle, brief and vain, The parting agony! -And the sea's voice replied, "Here nobler things have been! Power with the valiant when they died, VOL. VI.. -21 "Courage, in fragile form, Faith trusting to the last, Prayer, breathing heavenwards thro' the storm, But all alike have pass'd." Sound on, thou haughty sea! These have not pass'd in vain; My soul awakes, my hope springs free Thou, from thine empire driven, May'st vanish with thy powers; But, by the hearts that here have striven, THE HAUNTED HOUSE. "I seem like one Who treads alone Some banquet hall deserted, Whose lights are fled, Whose garlands dead, And all but me departed." MOORE. SEE'ST thou yon grey gleaming hall, Still are murmuring round its hearth, Ever there;-yet one alone Hath the gift to hear their tone. THE HAUNTED HOUSE. Guests come thither, and depart, When the night hath seal'd all eyes, See'st thou where the woodbine flowers One lone woman's entering tread Some with young smooth foreheads fair, All, from under deep sea-waves, Or the flowers of foreign graves, Or the old and banner'd aisle, Where their high tombs gleam the while; Rising, wandering, floating by, Suddenly and silently, Through their earthly home and place, But amidst another race. Wherefore, unto one alone, Are those sounds and visions known? 243 On her soul, a baleful dower, Oh! in those deep-seeing eyes, Sunny smiles were glancing round her, Seeing what none else may see- THE SHEPHERD-POET OF THE ALPS. "God gave him reverence of laws, Yet stirring blood in freedom's cause A spirit to his rocks akin, The eye of the hawk, and the fire therein!" SINGING of the free blue sky, COLERIDGE. THE SHEPHERD-POET OF THE ALPS. And the courage and the grace Darkly hung th' oppressor's hand Thrilling all the silent snows; His now singing far and lone, Where the young breeze ne'er was known; Wildly-and how mournfully! Are none but the Wind and the Lammer-Geyer To be free where the hills unto heaven aspire ? Is the soul of song from the deep glens past, Now that their poet is chain'd at last? 245 |