the distance the tempest moaned. A few moments afterward a volley crashed through the gloom, there was a bright flash, then all was darkness and silence, and something fell into the sea with a heavy splash.
Upon a cliff that frowned above the sea I saw a white-haired man. His form was bowed As by the weight of years; but in his eye Glowed the pure fire of an immortal youth. His thin and tremulous hand upheld a glass Filled with bright sands of gold, and as he bent Above the tide that ever surged below, He let the glittering contents of his glass Fall, one by one, into the mystic depths Of that unfathomed sea. So far removed The gulf wherein they fell, no echo came Back to the listening ear. Once sunken there, Those shining particles of rarest worth Were lost forevermore.
The while I watched
This silent toiler at his silent task,
A rosy boy came bounding to the spot.
He paused awhile to note, with pleased surprise, The ancient man; and then his tuneful voice Rang out the music of his merry thoughts. "Ho! father, ho! that's pleasant work of thine; I'd like right well to let those treasures fall. How bright they sparkle ere they sink from sight!
One, two, three, four. But ah! they go too slow. Lend me the glass; I'll shake its glittering sands, And then you'll see a dazzling shower of gold Go merrily dancing down."
To this sweet childish plea. The aged man
Paused not, nor turned an instant from his work, But, like a faithful steward, who must keep
Exact account of what he meteth out,
His cautious hand to its appointed task Kept steadiest movement still.
That breaks in summer skies-so fair, so fresh, So rosy sweet-came forth a youthful maid. She smiled, and sudden sunshine seemed to flash Its morning splendor o'er that rugged cliff; She spake, and listening echo caught the tones, And laughed them back so tunefully, that all The summer air rippled with sweetest sound. These were her words:
If thou wouldst be the friend of friendless souls; If thou wouldst aid two fond and faithful hearts, List to me now. My own true lover waits The tender signal of the evening star,- Waits for its sacred light to guide him here. We dare not meet, save when night's friendly veil Enfolds and hides us from the angry eyes
That frown upon our love. We have no day
Save in each other's smiles. Thy hand alone Can speed the lagging moments on their way, And bring the hour we consecrate to joy.
Then shake your glass, good father, shake the sands, And send them flying faster on their course.
Untempted yet by that alluring voice, Unsoftened by its sweet and tender plea, The Ancient One, still faithful to his trust, As all must be who have great deeds to do, Toiled on, and on, with steadfast spirit still, At his appointed task.
A pallid man, with eyes of lurid fire;
He clutched the outstretched hand that held the glass, And in a hoarse, wild whisper, sternly said:
"Hold! dotard, hold! Waste not those precious sands. My doom is fixed, and by to-morrow's sun The avengers of the law will take my life. Each sparkling grain you scatter in yon gulf Is dearer to my soul than mines of gold.
I have brief space for penitence and prayer: Keep, keep the golden moments till I make My peace with Heaven. Look! Could I coin These drops of anguish which bedew my brow, And these hot tears to showers of priceless gems, I'd give them all to have thee stay thy task!"
Still no reply, no token that he heard
These varied pleas, came from that stern old man. Silent and calm, as when the stately march
Of untold ages first began their course, He steadily measured every golden grain, That he might render to the Eternal Mind That ruled above a faithful record still Of every precious treasure meted out To the dark gulf below.
So fickle and so thoughtless-glad to-day To have the moments fly, to-morrow grieved Te see them go so fleetly-heed, I pray, The vision that I saw. Fret not Time's ear With vain and weak appeals, but rather take A lesson from his teaching. Do your work, What'er in life it be, as he doth his, With purpose firm, and with unfaltering zeal.
There was a sound of revelry by night, And Belgium's capital had gathered then
Her beauty and her chivalry; and bright
The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men; A thousand hearts beat happily; and when
Music arose with its voluptuous swell,
Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again,
And all went merry as a marriage-bell:
But hush! hark! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell
Did ye not hear it?-No; 'twas but the wind, Or a car rattling o'er the stony street; On with the dance! Let joy be unconfined;
No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet; To chase the glowing hours with flying feet- But hark! that heavy sound breaks in once more, As if the clouds its echo would repeat; And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before! Arm! arm! it is-it is the cannon's opening roar!
Within a windowed niche of that high hall
Sate Brunswick's fated chieftain; he did hear That sound the first amidst the festival,
And caught its tone with Death's prophetic ear; And when they smiled because he deemed it near, His heart more truly knew that peal too well
Which stretched his father on a bloody bier, And roused the vengeance blood alone could quell: He rushed into the field, and, foremost fighting, fell.
Ah! then and there was hurrying to and fro, And gathering tears and tremblings of distress, And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago
Blushed at the praise of their own loveliness; And there were sudden partings, such as press The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs Which ne'er might be repeated: who could guess If ever more should meet those mutual eyes, Since upon night so sweet such awful morn could rise?
And there was mounting in hot haste: the steed, The mustering squadron, and the clattering car,
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