THE SULIOTE MOTHER. It is related in a French Life of Ali Pacha, that several of the Suliote women, on the advance of the Turkish troops into their mountain fastnesses, assembled on a lofty summit, and, after chanting a wild song, precipitated themselves, with their children, into the chasm below, to avoid becoming the slaves of the enemy. SHE stood upon the loftiest peak, A bitter smile was on her cheek, "Dost thou see them, boy?-through the dusky pines Wouldst thou spring from thy mother's arms with joy? For in the rocky strait beneath, Lay Suliote sire and son; They had heap'd high the piles of death "They have cross'd the torrent, and on they come ! Woe for the mountain hearth and home! There, where the hunter laid by his spear, There, where the lyre hath been sweet to hear, There, where I sang thee, fair babe! to sleep, Nought but the blood-stain our trace shall keep!" And now the horn's loud blast was heard, Till ev'n the upper air was stirr'd, "Hark! they bring music, my joyous child! -Still!-be thou still!-there are brave men low Thou wouldst not smile couldst thou see him now!" But nearer came the clash of steel, And farther yet the tambour's peal Through the dark pass was borne. "Hear'st thou the sound of their savage mirth? And from the arrowy peak she sprung, And fast the fair child bore, A veil upon the wind was flung, A cry-and all was o'er! THE FAREWELL TO THE DEAD. The following piece is founded on a beautiful part of the Greek funeral service, in which relatives and friends are invited to embrace the deceased (whose face is uncovered), and to bid their final adieu. See Christian Researches in the Mediterranean. -"Tis hard to lay into the earth A countenance so benign! a form that walk'd But yesterday so stately o'er the earth! WILSON. COME near !-ere yet the dust Soil the bright paleness of the settled brow, In still and solemn trust! Come near !—once more let kindred lips be press'd On his cold cheek; then bear him to his rest! Look yet on this young face! What shall the beauty, from amongst us gone, Gladdening its hearth and race? Dim grows the semblance on man's heart impress'd-Come near, and bear the beautiful to rest! For tears befit earth's partings!-Yesterday And sunshine seem'd to dwell Where'er he moved-the welcome and the bless'd! Look yet on him, whose eye Meets yours no more in sadness or in mirth! The beings born to die? -But not where death has power may love be bless'dCome near! and bear ye the beloved to rest! How may the mother's heart Dwell on her son, and dare to hope again? The spring's rich promise hath been given in vain, Is he not gone, our brightest and our best? Come near! and bear the early-call'd to rest! |