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But bid the strain be wild and deep,
Nor let thy notes of joy be first: I tell thee, minstrel, I must weep,
Or else this heavy heart will burst;
And ached in sleepless silence long;
And break at once-or yield to song.
I SAW THEE WEEP.
I SAW thee weep—the big bright tear
Came o'er that eye of blue;
A violet dropping dew:
Beside thee ceased to shine;
That fill’d that glance of thine.
As clouds from yonder sun receive
A deep and mellow die,
Can banish from the sky,
Those smiles unto the moodiest mind
Their own pure joy impart;
That lightens o'er the heart.
THY DAYS ARE DONE.
1. Thy days are done, thy fame begun ;
Thy country's strains record
The slaughters of his sword!
The freedom he restored!
Though thou art fall'n, while we are free
Thou shalt not taste of death! The generous blood that flow'd from thee
Disdain'd to sink beneath: Within our veins its currents be,
Thy spirit on our breath!
Shall be the battle-word!
From virgin voices pour'd!
To weep would do thy glory wrong;
Thou shalt not be deplored.
SONGS OF SAUL BEFORE HIS LAST
WARRIORS and Chiefs ! should the shaft or the sword
Thou who art bearing my buckler and bow,
Farewell to others, but never we part,
Tuou whose spell can raise the dead,
Bid the prophet's form appear. “ Samuel, raise thy buried head!
“King, behold the phantom seer!” Earth yawn'd; he stood the centre of a cloud : Light changed its hue, retiring from his shroud. Death stood all glassy in his fixed eye; His hand was wither'd, and his veins were dry His foot, in bony whiteness, glitter'd there, Shrunken and sinewless, and ghastly bare: From lips that moved not and unbreathing frame, Like cavern'd winds, the hollow accents came. Saul saw, and fell to earth, as falls the oak, At once, and blasted by the thunder-stroke.
“Why is my sleep disquieted ?
“Thou, thy race, lie pale and low,
“ALL IS VANITY, SAITH THE
Fame, wisdom, love, and power were mine,
And health and youth possess'd me; My goblets blush'd from every vine,
And lovely forms caress'd me;
I sunn'd my heart in beauty's eyes,
And felt my soul grow tender; All earth can give, or mortal prize,
Was mine of regal splendour.
I strive to number o'er what days
Remembrance can discover, Which all that life of earth displays
Would lure me to live over.