Изображения страниц
PDF
EPUB

Nor let the least be sent away.

6

All hearts shall sing Adieu to sorrow!'
St. Pierre has found his child to-day;
And old and young shall dance to-morrow.",

Had Louis' then before the gate dismounted,
Lost in the chase at set of sun;

Like Henry when he heard recounted2
The generous deeds himself had done,
(What time the miller's maid Colette
Sung, while he supped, her chansonnette)
Then when St. Pierre addressed his village-
train,

Then had the monarch with a sigh confessed
A joy by him unsought and unpossessed,
—Without it what are all the rest?—
To love, and to be loved again.

Louis the Fourteenth,

Alluding to a popular story related of Henry the Fourth of France, similar to ours of "The King and Miller of Mansfield."

HUMAN LIFE.

1819.

THE ARGUMENT.

Introduction-Ringing of Bells in a neighbouring Village on the Birth of an Heir-General Reflections on Human Life- The Subject proposed-Childhood--Youth-Manhood-Love - MarriageDomestic Happiness and Affliction-War-Peace-Civil Dissension -Retirement from Active Life-Old Age and its EnjoymentsConclusion.

HE lark has sung his carol in the sky; The bees have hummed their noon-tide harmony.

Still in the vale the village-bells ring round,

Still in Llewellyn-hall the jests resound:
For now the caudle-cup is circling there,

Now, glad at heart, the gossips breathe their prayer,

And, crowding, stop the cradle to admire

The babe, the sleeping image of his sire.

A few short years—and then these sounds shall hail

The day again, and gladness fill the vale;
So soon the child a youth, the youth a man,
Eager to run the race his fathers ran.
Then the huge ox shall yield the broad sir-loin ;
The ale now brewed, in floods of amber shine:
And, basking in the chimney's ample blaze,
Mid many a tale told of his boyish days,
The nurse shall cry, of all her ills beguiled,
""Twas on these knees he sate so oft and smiled."
And soon again shall music swell the breeze;
Soon, issuing forth, shall glitter through the trees
Vestures of nuptial white; and hymns be sung,

And violets scattered round; and old and young,
In every cottage-porch with garlands green,
Stand still to gaze, and, gazing, bless the scene;
While, her dark eyes declining, by his side
Moves in her virgin-veil the gentle bride.
And once, alas, nor in a distant hour,
Another voice shall come from yonder tower;
When in dim chambers long black weeds are seen,
And weepings heard where only joy has been ;
When by his children borne, and from his door
Slowly departing to return no more,

He rests in holy earth with them that went before.
And such is Human Life; so, gliding on,

It glimmers like a meteor, and is gone!
Yet is the tale, brief though it be, as strange,
As full, methinks, of wild and wondrous change,
As any that the wandering tribes require,
Stretched in the desert round their evening-fire;
As any sung of old in hall or bower

To minstrel-harps at midnight's witching hour!
Born in a trance, we wake, observe, inquire;
And the green earth, the azure sky admire.
Of Elfin-size--for ever as we run,

We cast a longer shadow in the sun!

And now a charm, and now a grace is won!
Te grow in stature, and in wisdom too!
And, as new scenes, new objects rise to view,
Think nothing done while aught remains to do.
Yet, all forgot, how oft the eye-lids close,
And from the slack hand drops the gathered rose !
How oft, as dead, on the warm turf we lie,
While many an emmet comes with curious eye;
And on her nest the watchful wren sits by!
Nor do we speak or move, or hear or see;

So like what once we were, and once again shall be!

And say, how soon, where, blithe as innocent,

added

O'er Nature play the tyrant's part,
And with the hand compel the heart?
Oh rather, rather hope to bind
The ocean-wave, the mountain-wind;
Or fix thy foot upon the ground
To stop the planet rolling round.

The light was on his face; and there
You might have seen the passions driven—
Resentment, Pity, Hope, Despair-
Like clouds across the face of Heaven.
Now he sighed heavily; and now,
His hand withdrawing from his brow,
He shut the volume with a frown,
To walk his troubled spirit down :

1

-When (faithful as that dog of yore
Who wagged his tail and could no more)
Manchon, who long had snuffed the ground,
And sought and sought, but never found,
Leapt up and to the casement flew,

And looked and barked, and vanished thro'.
""Tis Jacqueline! 'Tis Jacqueline!"
Her little brother laughing cried.
“I know her by her kirtle green,
She comes along the mountain-side;
Now turning by the traveller's seat,—
Now resting in the hermit's cave,—
Now kneeling, where the pathways meet,
To the cross on the stranger's grave.
And, by the soldier's cloak, I know
(There, there along the ridge they go)
D'Arcy, so gentle and so brave!
Look up-why will you not ?" he cries,
His rosy hands before his eyes;
For on that incense-breathing eve
The sun shone out, as loth to leave.
"See to the rugged rock she clings!

1 Argus.

She calls, she faints, and D'Arcy springs ;

D'Arcy so dear to us, to all;

Who, for you told me on your knee,
When in the fight he saw you fall,
Saved you for Jacqueline and me!"

[ocr errors]

And true it was! [And true the tale.
When did she sue, and not prevail?
Five years before it was the night
That on the village-green they parted,
The lilied banners streaming bright
O'er maids and mothers broken-hearted;
The drum-it drowned the last adieu,
When D'Arcy from the crowd she drew.
"One charge I have, and one alone,
Nor that refuse to take,

My father-if not for his own,

Oh for his daughter's sake!"

Inly he vowed-'twas all he could;

And went and sealed it with his blood.

Nor can ye wonder.

When a child,

And in her playfulness she smiled,

Up many a ladder-path 1 he guided
Where meteor-like the chamois glided,
Thro' many a misty grove.

They loved-but under Friendship's name;
And Reason, Virtue fanned the flame,
Till in their houses Discord came,

And 'twas a crime to love.

Then what was Jacqueline to do?
Her father's angry hours she knew,
And when to soothe, and when persuade;
But now her path De Courcy crossed,
Led by his falcon through the glade-
He turned, beheld, admired the maid;
And all her little arts were lost!

1 Called in the language of the country Pus-de-l'Echelle.

« ПредыдущаяПродолжить »