Abbildungen der Seite

Ye may sec, ---if not foul-fettered

By the blinding bands of sin, Thy soul's wall sublimely lettered,

Ileaven's kingdom is within!" If within be peace and gladness,

Love for all things, great and small, – Pity, nigh akin to sadness,

For an erring brother's fall, -
For enemies a meek prayer, rather

Than revenge's fiendish due,
Lowly breatlied, “ Forgive them, Father,

For they know not what they do!''
Humility, when wreath of laurel

Crowns thee conqueror, in a field
Where self stood trembling in the quarrel,

Crging thee to dastard yield;
But martyr firmness, when thy spirit

At life's fiery stake is tried,
Though no palm awards the merit

That has stemmed the raging tide;And, withal, a hopeful nature,

Sisting out the grain of good, The one redeeming better feature,

Found in every evil brood, Feeding Hate and Falsehood only

With the sweet fruit of the true,Loving, thoughı unloved and lonely, —

Say, can Ileaven be far from you? Ah! nearer, nearer for the crosses

That have strewn thy way of life; Nearer for the hallowing losses;

Nearer for the conquered strife; Nearer for the wise ordeal

That leads thee rough-shod o'er the stone, Till thou canst bravely bear the real;

And trusting say, " Thy will be done! Never upward look for Heaven,

If no lleaven's begun below;
Never onward look for Heaven,

For you pass it as you go;
Never outward look for leaven,-

Outward lies the slough of sin,
The old corrupt, fermenting leaven,-
Look for Ileaven alone within.


'Twas in the prime of summer-time,

An evening calm and cool
And four-and-twenty happy boys

Came bounding out of school;
There were some that ran, and some that leapt

Like troutlets in a pool.
Away they sped, with gamesome minds,

And souls untouched by sin;
To a level mcad they came, and there

They drave the wickets in:
Pleasantly shone the setting sun

Over the town of Lynn.
Like sportive deer they coursed about,

And shouted as they ran,-
Turning to mirth all things of earth,

As only boyhood can,
But the usher sat remote from all,

A melancholy man!
His lat was off, his vest apart,

To catch IIeaven's blessed breeze;
For a burning thought was in his brow,

And bis bosom ill at ease; So he leaned his head on his hands, and read

The book between his knees.
Leaf after leaf he turned it o'er,

Nor ever glanced aside,
For the peace of his soul he read that book

In the golden eventide;
Muchi study had made him very lean,

And pale, and leaden-eyed.
At last he shut the ponderous tome,

With a fast and fervent grasp
He strained the dusky covers close,

And fixed the brazen lasp:

“My gentle lad, what is’t you read,

Romance or fairy fable ?
Or is it some historic page,

Of kings and crowns unstable ?"
The young boy gave an upward

6. It is The Death of Abel!'" The usher took six hasty strides,

As smit with sudden pain, -
Six lasty strides beyond the place,

Then slowly back again;
And down le sat beside the lad,

And talked with him of Cain;
And, long since then, of bloody men

Whose deeds tradition saves;
Of lonely folk cut off unseen,

And lid in sudden graves;
Of horrid stabs, in groves forlorn,

And murders done in caves;
And how the sprites of injured men

Shrick upward from the sod,–
Ay, how the ghostly hand will point

To show the burial clod;
And unknown facts of guilty acts

Arc seen in dreams from God;
He told how murderers walked the earth

Beneath the curse of Cain,
With crimson clouds before their eyes,

And lames about their brain;
For blood has left upon their svuls

Its everlasting stain. " And wel)," quoth le, “I know, for truth,

Their pangs must be extreme, Woe, woe, uutterable woe,

Who spill life's sacred stream! For why? Methought, last night, I wrought

A murder in a dream!

And then thc dced was done; There was nothing lying at my foot

But lifeless ilesh and bone:
“Nothing but lifeless flesh and bone,

That could vot do me ill;
And yet I feared him all the more,

For lying there so still;
There was a manlood in his look,

That murder could not kill. " And, lo! the universal air

Seemed lit with ghastly flame;
Ten thousand thousand dreadful eyes

Were looking down in blame;
I took the dead man by his hand,

And called upon liis name.
“() God! it made me quake to see

Such sense within the slain;
But when I touched the lifeless clay,

The blood grushed out amain;
For every clot a burning spot

Was scorching in my brain.
“My head was like an ardent coal;

My heart as solid ice;
My wretchel, wretched soul, I knew,

Was at the devil's price;
A dozeu times I groaned; the dead

Llad never groaned but twice.
• Antu now, from forth the frowning sky,

From the heaven's topmost heiglit, I heard a voice,-the awful voice

Of the blootl-avenging sprite: 'Thou guilty man! take up thy dead,

And hide it from my sight! “I took the dreary boly up,

And cast it in a stream,
A slugyish water, black as ink,

The depth was so extreme.
My gentle boy, remember this

Is nothing but a drum! “ Down went the corpse with hollow plunge,

And vanished in the pool;

“O heaven! to think of their white souls,

And mine so black and grim!
I could not share in childish prayer,

Nor join in evening hymn;
Like a devil of the pit I seenied,

Mid holy cherubim.

“ And peace went with them, one and all,

And each calm pillow spread;
But guilt was my grim chamberlain,

That lighted me to bed;
And drew my midnight curtains round,

With fingers bloody red.

“ All night I lay in agony,

In anguish dark and deep,
My fevered eyes I dared not close,

But stared aghast at Sleep;
For Sin has rendered unto her

The keys of hell to keep.

“All night I lay in agony,

From weary chime to chime, With one besetting, horrid bint,

That racked me all the time,A mighty yearning, like the first

Fierce impulse unto crime.

One stern tyrannic thought, that made

All other thoughts its slave; Stronger and stronger every pulse

Did that temptation crave, Still urging me w go and seo

The dead man in his grave.

“Heavily I rose up, as soon

As light was in the sky,
And sought the black, accursed pool,

With a wild, misgiving eye;
And I saw the dead in the river bed,

For the faithless stream was dry.

“Merrily rose the lark, and shook

The dewdrop from its wing;
But I vever marked its morning flight,

I never heard it sing;
For I was stooping once again

Under the horrid thing.

« ZurückWeiter »