To fill our home with smiles, and thus are we
Most fortunate beneath life's beaming morn;
And these delights, and thou, have been to me 80
The parents of the Song I consecrate to thee.
x.
But strike the prelude of a loftier strain?
Or, must the lyre on which my spirit fingers
Soon pause in silence, ne'er to sound again, 85
Though it might shake the Anarch Custom's reign.
And charm the minds of men to Truth's own sway
Holier than was Amphion's? I would fain
Reply in hope—but I am worn away,
And Death and Love are yet contending for their prey. 90
xi.
Time may interpret to his silent years.
Yet in the paleness of thy thoughtful cheek,
And in the light thine ample forehead wears,
And in thy sweetest smiles, and in thy tears, 95
And in thy gentle speech, a prophecy
Is whispered, to subdue my fondest fears:
And through thine eyes, even in thy soul I see
A lamp of vestal fire burning internally.
xii.
Or glorious parents, thou aspiring Child.
I wonder not—for One then left this earth
Whose life was like a setting planet mild.
Which clothed thee in the radiance undefiled
Of its departing glory; still her fame 105
Shines on thee, through the tempests dark and wild
Which shake these latter days; and thou canst claim
The shelter, from thy Sire, of an immortal name.
xiii.
Which was the echo of three thousand years; 110
And the tumultuous world stood mute to hear it,
As some lone man who in a desert hears
The music of his home:—unwonted fears
Fell on the pale oppressors of our race,
And Faith, and Custom, and low-thoughted cares, 115
Like thunder-stricken dragons, for a space
Left the torn human heart, their food and dwelling-place.
xiv.
If there must be no response to my cry—
If men must rise and stamp with fury blind 120
On his pure name who loves them,—thou and I,
Sweet friend! can look from our tranquillity
