Lovely is the green earth—she knows the hour is holy;
Starry are the heavens, lit with eternal joy;
Light like their own is dawning sweet and slowly
O'er the fair and sculptured forehead of that yet dreaming boy.
Soon he will awaken!
Red as the red rose towards the morning turning,
Warms the youth's lip to the watcher's near his own,
While the dark eyes open, bright, intense, and burning
With a life more glorious than ere they closed was known.
Yes, he has awakened
For the midnight's happy queen!
What is this old history but a lesson given,
How true love still conquers by the deep strength of truth,
How all the impulses, whose native home is heaven,
Sanctify the visions of hope, faith, and youth.
'Tis for such they waken!
When every worldly thought is utterly forsaken,
Comes the starry midnight, felt by life's gifted few;
Then will the spirit from its earthly sleep awaken
To a being more intense, more spiritual and true.
So doth the soul awaken,
Like that youth to night's fair queen!
II.
The Death of the Sea King.
Dark, how dark the morning
That kindles the sky!
But darker the scorning
Of Earl Harald's eye;
On his deck he is lying,—
It once was his throne,
Yet there he is dying,
Unheeded and lone.
But over him bendeth a young and pale woman.
He has lived mid the hurtle
Of spears and of snow;
Yet green droops the myrtle
Where he is laid low:
The vessel is stranded
On some southern isle;
The foes that are banded
Will wait her awhile:—
Will the Sea Raven sweep o'er her own northern main.
He was born on the water,
'Mid storm and 'mid strife;
Through tempest and slaughter
Was hurried his life;
Few years has he numbered,
And golden his head,
Yet the north hills are cumbered
With bones of his dead.
From the spot where Earl Harald is breathing his last.
