VIII.

Yet once I sank. Alas! man's wavering mind!
Wherefore and whence the gusts that o'er it blow?
How they bear with them, floating uncombin'd,
The shadows of the past, that come and go,
As o'er the deep the old long-buried things,
Which a storm's working to the surface brings!
Is the reed shaken, and must we be so,

With

every

wind? So, Father! must we be,

-

Till we can fix undimm'd our stedfast eyes on Thee.

Once my

IX.

soul died within me. What had thrown

That sickness o'er it ?-Even a passing thought

Of a clear spring, whose side, with flowers o'ergrown, Fondly and oft my boyish steps had sought! Perchance the damp roof's water-drops, that fell Just then, low tinkling through my vaulted cell, Intensely heard amidst the stillness, caught Some tone from memory, of the music, welling Ever with that fresh rill, from its deep rocky dwelling.

X.

But so my spirit's fever'd longings wrought,
Wakening, it might be, to the faint sad sound,
That from the darkness of the walls they brought
A lov'd scene round me, visibly around 14.

Yes! kindling, spreading, brightening, hue by hue,
Like stars from midnight, through the gloom it grew,
That haunt of youth, hope, manhood!—till the bound
Of my shut cavern seem'd dissolv'd, and I

Girt by the solemn hills and burning pomp of sky.

XI.

I look'd-and lo! the clear broad river flowing,
Past the old Moorish ruin on the steep,

The lone tower dark against a Heaven all glowing,
Like seas of glass and fire!-I saw the sweep
Of glorious woods far down the mountain side,

And their still shadows in the gleaming tide,
And the red evening on its waves asleep;

And midst the scene-oh! more than all-there smil'd

My child's fair face, and hers, the mother of my child!

XII. .

With their soft eyes of love and gladness rais'd
Up to the flushing sky, as when we stood
Last by that river, and in silence gaz'd
On the rich world of sunset:-but a flood
Of sudden tenderness my soul oppress'd,
And I rush'd forward with a yearning breast,
To clasp-alas! a vision !-Wave and wood,
And gentle faces, lifted in the light

Of day's last hectic blush, all melted from my sight.

3

XIII.

Then darkness!-oh! th' unutterable gloom
That seem'd as narrowing round me, making less
And less my dungeon, when, with all its bloom,
That bright dream vanish'd from my loneliness!
It floated off, the beautiful!-yet left

Such deep thirst in my soul, that thus bereft,

I lay down, sick with passion's vain excess,
And pray'd to die.-How oft would sorrow weep
Her weariness to death, if he might come like sleep!

XIV.

But I was rous'd-and how?-It is no tale

Even midst thy shades, thou wilderness, to tell!
I would not have my boy's young cheek made pale,
Nor haunt his sunny rest with what befel

In that drear prison-house.-His eye must grow
More dark with thought, more earnest his fair brow,
More high his heart in youthful strength must swell ;
So shall it fitly burn when all is told :-

Let childhood's radiant mist the free child yet enfold !

XV.

It is enough that through such heavy hours,
As wring us by our fellowship of clay,

I liv'd, and undegraded. We have powers

To snatch th' oppressor's bitter joy away!

Shall the wild Indian, for his savage fame,
Laugh and expire, and shall not truth's high name
Bear up her martyrs with all-conquering sway?

It is enough that Torture may be vain

I had seen Alvar die-the strife was won from Pain.

XVI.

And faint not, heart of man! though years wane slow!

There have been those that from the deepest caves,
And cells of night, and fastnesses, below
The stormy dashing of the ocean-waves,

Down, farther down than gold lies hid, have nurs'd
A quenchless hope, and watch'd their time, and burst
On the bright day, like wakeners from the graves !
I was of such at last!-unchain'd I trod

This green earth, taking back my freedom from my God!

XVII.

That was an hour to send its fadeless trace

Down life's far sweeping tide!-A dim, wild night,

Like sorrow, hung upon

the soft moon's face,

Yet how my heart leap'd in her blessed light!
The shepherd's light the sailor's on the sea-
The hunter's homeward from the mountains free,
Where its lone smile makes tremulously bright

The thousand streams!-I could but gaze through tearsOh! what a sight is Heaven, thus first beheld for years!