But stubbornness was in my heart; and I
Turn'd away silently:
Yet still I could but hear the warning voice—
"Methinks, thou dost rejoice
In this thine exile"—then I answer made
"Alas! 'twas not my choice."
Much did I marvel what the voice could be,
That thus importuned me;
And I cried out—"Those tones, oh! whose are they
That now I hear—oh! say:
Me-thought at first it was my mother's voice:
That thought has died away;
"And now I know not"—Then the voice replied
"I am thy friend—thy guide—
Thou hast none such throughout this teeming earth;
E'en from thy very birth,
I have watched o'er thee; and I charge thee now,
Reseek thy father's hearth."
Then sickness came upon me: and I lay
For many a weary day,
Cursing the hour, when first I saw the light:
At morn I pray'd for night,
And when night came I long'd for day to burst
Upon my straining sight.
Then I had visions, though I never slept.
But aye my senses kept—
Wild, troubled visions which I could not quell,
Although I knew right well.
That my distempered brain saw many things
Which were invisible.
And as I lay upon the bed of pain,
I heard the voice again;
"My son, dost thou believe me?"—and I cried
"Oh! my best friend—my guide—
Whatever thou mayest be, relieve me, and
Thou shalt be deified."
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JOHN WILLIAM KAYE.