"And she was lost-and yet I breathed,
"But not the breath of human life-
"A serpent round my heart was wreathed,
"And stung my every thought to strife.-
"Alike all time-abhorred all place,
Shuddering I shrunk from Nature's face, "Where every hue that charmed before "The blackness of my bosom wore :"The rest-thou do'st already know, "And all my sins and half my woe— "But talk no more of penitence, "Thou see'st I soon shall part from hence"And if thy holy tale were true— « "The deed that's done canst thou undo? "Think me not thankless—but this grief "Looks not to priesthood for relief. "My soul's estate in secret guess— "But would'st thou pity more-say "When thou can'st bid my Leila live, "Then will I sue thee to forgive; "Then plead my cause in that high place "Where purchased masses proffer grace"Go-when the hunter's hand hath wrung "From forest-cave her shrieking young, "And calm the lonely lioness— "But soothe not-mock not my distress!
"In earlier days, and calmer hours,
"When heart with heart delights to blend, "Where bloom my native valley's bowers
“I had—Ah! have I now?-a friend !·
"To him this pledge I charge thee send"Memorial of a youthful vow;
"I would remind him of my end,
"Though souls absorbed like mine allow "Brief thought to distant friendship's claim, "Yet dear to him my blighted name. ""Tis strange-he prophesied my doom, "And I have smil'd-(I then could smile-) "When Prudence would his voice assume, "And warn-I reck'd not what-the while"But now remembrance whispers o'er "Those accents scarcely mark'd before. "Say-that his bodings came to pass,
"And he will start to hear their truth, "And wish his words had not been sooth, "Tell him-unheeding as I was
"Through many a busy bitter scene "Of all our golden youth had been"In pain, my faltering tongue had tried "To bless his memory ere I died; "But heaven in wrath would turn away, "If Guilt should for the guiltless pray, "I do not ask him not to blame"Too gentle he to wound my name; "And what have I to do with fame? "I do not ask him not to mourn,
"Such cold request might sound like scorn; "And what than friendship's manly tear
May better grace a brother's bier?
"But bear this ring-his own of old-
"And tell him-what thou dost behold >
"The wither'd frame, the ruined mind,
"The wrack by passion left behind-
"A shrivelled scroll, a scatter'd leaf,
"Scar'd by the autumn blast of grief!
"I would not, if I might, be blest,
"I want no paradise-but rest.
""Twas then, I tell thee, father! then
" I saw her-yes-she liv'd again;
"And shining in her white symar,
"As through yon pale grey cloud—the star
"Which now I gaze on, as on her
"Who look'd and looks far lovelier;
"Dimly I view its trembling spark-
"To-morrow's night shall be more dark―
"And I-before its rays appear,
"That lifeless thing the living fear.
"I wander, father! for my soul
"Is fleeting towards the final goal;
"I saw her, friar! and I rose,
66 Forgetful of our former woes;
"And rushing from my couch, I dart,
"And clasp her to my desperate heart;
"I clasp-what is it that I clasp?
"No breathing form within my grasp,
"No heart that beats reply to mine,
"Yet, Leila! yet the form is thine;
"And art thou, dearest, chang'd so much,
"As meet my eye, yet mock my touch?
"Ah! were thy beauties e'er so cold,
"I care not-so my arms enfold
"The all they ever wish'd to hold.
"Alas! around a shadow prest,
"They shrink upon my lonely breast;
"Yet still-'tis there-in silence stands,
"And beckons with beseeching hands!
"With braided hair, and bright-black eye-
"I knew 'twas false-she could not die!
"But he is dead-within the dell
"I saw him buried where he fell;
"He comes not-for he cannot break
"From earth-why then art thou awake?
66 They told me, wild waves roll'd above
"The face I view, the form I love;
-'twas a hideous tale!
"I'd tell it—but my tongue would fail-
"If true-and from thine ocean cave
"Thou com'st to claim a calmer grave;
"Oh! pass thy dewy fingers o'er
"This brow that then will burn no more;
"Or place them on my hopeless heart-
"But shape or shade !-whate'er thou art,
"In mercy, ne'er again depart-
"Such is my name, and such my tale,
"Confessor-to thy secret ear,
"I breathe the sorrows I bewail,
"And thank thee for the generous tear
This glazing eye could never shed,
"Then lay me with the humblest dead
"And, save the cross above my head,
"Be neither name nor emblem spread-
"By prying stranger to be read,
"Or stay the passing pilgrim's tread."
He pass'd-nor of his name and race
Hath left a token or a trace,
Save what the father must not say
Who shrived him on his dying day;
This broken tale was all we knew
Of her he lov'd, or him he slew.
[From Mr. MONTGOMERY's World before the Flood.]
WITH him bis noblest sons might not compare,
WITH his noblest
In godlike feature and majestic air;
Not out of weakness rose his gradual frame,
Perfect from his Creator's hand he came;
And as in form excelling, so in mind
The Sire of men transcended all mankind:
A soul was in his eye, and in his speech
A dialect of heaven no art could reach;
For oft of old to him, the evening breeze
Had borne the voice of God among the trees;
Angels were wont their songs with his to blend,
And talk with him as their familiar friend.
But deep remorse for that mysterious crinie,
Whose dire contagion through elapsing time
Diffused the curse of death beyond controul,
Had wrought such self-abasement in his soul,
That he, whose honours were approach'd by none,
Was yet the meekest man beneath the sun.
From sin, as from the serpent that betray'd
Eve's early innocence, he sunk afraid;
Vice he rebuked with so austere a frown,
He seem'd to bring an instant judgment down,
Yet while he chid, compunctious tears would start,
And yearning tenderness dissolve his heart;
The guilt of all his race became his own,
He suffer'd as if he had sinn'd alone.
Within our glen to filial love endear'd,
Abroad for wisdom, truth and justice fear'd,
He walk'd so humbly in the sight of all,
The vilest ne'er reproach'd him with his fall.
Children were his delight;--they ran to meet
His soothing hand, and clasp his honour'd feet;
While 'midst their fearless sports supremely blest,
He grew in heart a child among the rest:
Yet as a parent, nought beneath the sky
Touch'd him so quickly as an infant's eye;
Joy from its smile of happiness he caught,
Its flash of rage sent horror through his thought,
His smitten conscience felt as fierce a pain,
As if he fell from innocence again.
"One morn I track'd him on his lonely way,
Pale as the gleam of slow-awakening day;
With feeble step be climb'd yon craggy height,
Thence fix'd on distant Paradise his sight;
He gazed awhile in silent thought profound,
Then falling prostrate on the dewy ground,
He pour'd his spirit in a flood of prayer,
Bewail'd his ancient crime with self-despair,
And claim'd the pledge of reconciling grace,
The promised Seed, the Saviour of his race.
Wrestling with God, as Nature's vigour fail'd,
His faith grew stronger and his plea prevail'd;
The prayer from agony to rapture rose,
And sweet as Angel accents fell the close.
I stood to greet him; when he raised his head,
Divine expression o'er his viŝage spread,
His presence was so saintly to behold,
He seen'd in sinless Paradise grown old.
"This day,' said he, in Time's star lighted round, Renews the anguish of that mortal wound
On me inflicted, when the Serpent's tongue
My Spouse with his beguiling falsehood stung.
Though years of grace through centuries have pass'd
Since my transgression, this may be my last;.
Infirmities without, and fears within,
Foretell the consummating stroke of sin;
|