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I am cast under their triumphal car,
An insect to be crush'd.-Oh! Heaven is far,
Dost thou forget me, Seymour? I am prov'd
Aid!-comes there yet no aid?—the voice of blood
Sinks thro' the greensward !-is there not a cry
Have heavier cause!-yet hear!-my soul grows dark
Who hears the last shriek from the sinking bark,
And bearing to th' abyss, unseen, unknown,
Its freight of human hearts ?—th' o'ermastering wave! Who shall tell how it rush'd-and none to save?
Thou hast forsaken me! I feel, I know,
There would be rescue if this were not so.
Thou'rt at the chase, thou'rt at the festive board,
Thine! What dost thou amidst the bright and fair,
Than fiery song may breathe, deep thought explore,
Ev'n thou, on whom they hung their last green leaf-Yet smile, smile on! too bright art thou for grief!
Death!-what, is death a lock'd and treasur'd thing, Guarded by swords of fire ?2 a hidden spring,
A fabled fruit, that I should thus endure,
As if the world within me held no cure?
Wherefore not spread free wings-Heaven, Heaven!
These thoughts-they rush-I look into my soul
As down a gulf, and tremble at th' array
Of fierce forms crowding it! Give strength to pray,
So shall their dark host pass.
The storm is still'd.
Father in Heaven! Thou, only thou, canst sound The heart's great deep, with floods of anguish fill'd, For human line too fearfully profound. Therefore, forgive, my Father! if Thy child, Rock'd on its heaving darkness, hath grown wild, And sinn'd in her despair! It well may be, That Thou wouldst lead my spirit back to Thee, By the crush'd hope too long on this world pour'd, The stricken love which hath perchance ador'd A mortal in Thy place! Now let me strive With Thy strong arm no more! Forgive, forgive! Take me to peace!
And peace at last is nigh.
A sign is on my brow, a token sent
Th' o'erwearied dust, from home: no breeze flits by, But calls me with a strange sweet whisper, blent Of many mysteries.
Hark! the warning tone
Bowing to heaven. Yet, yet my woman's heart
Now, with fainting frame, With soul just lingering on the flight begun, To bind for thee its last dim thoughts in one, I bless thee! Peace be on thy noble head, Years of bright fame, when I am with the dead! I bid this prayer survive me, and retain Its might, again to bless thee, and again! Thou hast been gather'd into my dark fate Too much; too long, for my sake, desolate