My soul inspire; will flowers, or song of birds, Or breath of morn, or hymns of happiness, Or hopes of heaven, delight me more since thou Hast turned away? I could have seen thee die, With my own hand I could have closed those eyes In whose effulgent light my soul hath bathed, And sealed those lips, whose lightest words have thrilled My heart with deep emotions, and then said In meekness bowing, "let Thy will be done," But since thine eye in coldness meets mine own, In kindly tones thy lips refuse to speak, My heart must perish, for the aliment Which nourished it, is taken all away. And then into that stream so fatal now,
She wildly plunged, but like some precious pearl From out its depths, her sinking form was snatch'd By the same hand that in her woes, to help Was ever ready for her guardian mild, Again unheeded in her bliss, was near
To save her when those waters brought but death. And then for weary months watched over her, While their dark stain was on her snowy robes And their slow poison lingered in her veins.
When next I looked she wended through a vale, Where dwelt Humility with downcast eyes, And timid flowers sent up an incense sweet. Near her was none but her own gentle guide, Whose steps she followed with confiding trust. She bore a casket, wherein was contained Her treasures, though to her, their worth unknown, For wiser far than she, and of her good More jealous, her companion held the key. And with free hand, by her consent dispensed
Its contents, which upon the waves though cast, Or by the roadside strewn, were ever brought Back to her hand a thousand fold, or else Were onward borne, by swift winged messengers, To that bright land toward which she journeyed, there
To wait her coming. Meekly bearing this
She came to regal scenes, where wealth and power,
In royal robes and glittering gems arrayed,
Majestic moved. She humbly would have pass'd, But with proud taunts, they thrust her down to earth.
Though sore indignant, with submissive step
Her own true guide she would have followed still
Had not that foe malign then sped to her,
Though in the guise he wore she knew him not.
He spake of her affronts, how her estate, So low and humble, was unworthy one Of claims to greatness wondrous as were hers, And if that casket he could hear for her
The world admiring to those claims should bow. Vexed by her wounds and by his words seduced, Unheeding all remonstrance of her friend, She placed it in his hands. A secret spring He touched, and bursting wide it then display'd To her astonished gaze, gems and bright robes More gorgeous far than aught those proud ones wore. Then pointing to a seat on Fame's proud heights, He bade her in those garments matchless clad To that high place ascend, and thence her wrongs Avenge. Cheered by applause, she passing all, The dazzling point soon reach'd; and as with pride She turned to take that seat, a thousand tongues Proclaimed her praises, and a thousand hands Were raised upon her brow to stamp the seal
Of Fame. But there still shone, though faint and dim, The "holy cross," of her adopted name
Th' armorial sign, and this must be effaced Ere on her brow that other seal could press. Then sped the Evil one to blot it out. And cried exulting, "now thou'rt mine again," But with supernal strength his hand she thrust Away, for on her ear there rose a voice, Whose solemn accents thrill'd her inmost soul, "Thy holy mother, and thine early vow, Hast thou forgotten all," and distant far Her gentle friend she saw, with saddened step And tearful eye, turning with grief away. And then her eyes upon those scenes she closed, And from the glittering heights of Fame afar Toward that friend she fled; she onward went, Still by that wily form pursued, nor paused Until a cavern's yawning mouth she reached, For there with look serene and calm, that friend Awaited her. They entered that dire place, From whence arose such sights and sounds as pall The sternest senses, flames and smoke came forth As from a fiery furnace, groans were heard And sighs funereal, smothered sounds arose Of fearful conflict, then the wailings low, And muttered curses of defeat, for there Affliction dwelt, and there Remorse so stern Fastened her tortures. In the light again No more I thought to see her, but anon
She issued thence, her guardian's gentle arm Was round her clasped, her glittering robe to white Was changed, her jewelled sceptre to a shield, Which turned aside the shafts, that from that throng] Which she had quitted, fell upon her fast.
Again I saw her, and her pathway led Across a dreary desert, nought was there To cheer the eye, or glad the heart, except
One pure white flower of Friendship, which she watched With tender care. By holy saints 'twas nursed
In Paradise, and thence by the soft hands Of her mild friend, transplanted o'er her path So dark, to shed the odors of that land
Of light. It seemed for these ungenial climes Too fair, too mild its breath for gentlest gales That gladden earthly bowers. 'Twas given in love, And meekly 'twas received, and day, and night, She o'er it bending, cherished carefully
Its budding beauties, lest one leaf should fade And die; and if upon her breast to wear,
She pluck'd one petal soft, 'twas with a touch, Too delicate, the dew-drop bright to shake,
That in its fragrant bosom chastely slept.
And oft with grateful tears, she thanked and praised The Lord of Paradise, for sending her
In loneliness, this one sweet flower to love.
But midst her tender cares her hand was pierced
E'en to the quick, blood streamed from the deep wound,
Her heart was chill'd, and her whole form did writhe
In agony, while o'er her features spread A ghastly pallor, and the damp of death Seem'd gathering on her brow; but fearfully Then struggled life, that stricken one to gain. She slowly woke, and sadly sought the cause Of so much pain. And there beneath the leaves Concealed, a thorn to strength had grown, and now With her own blood was stained, and all around Each flower and bud, more thorns were shooting forth.
In some unguarded hour her watchful foe
Had grafted on its stems buds from the bowers
Of earth, and round its roots a baser soil
Had thrown-thus earthly culture through her plant
Infused a grosser nature; here no more Without a pang could she enjoy its sweets. But her too constant heart could not forget Its former beauty, still she clung to it And cried, "I cannot give it up. 'Tis all
That's left to me on earth, and to my heart
I still will clasp it, though my own life's blood Should follow the embrace." Then that sweet voice Which oft had solaced her, now spoke again. Weep not, it said, but let it die; and though It shed no more its perfume on thy way, And thou shalt have no object here for all Thy gentle cares, for thee shall all its seeds Be garnered up, and it shall grow again
In that bright land where thou art going; there Again thy hand shall tend it; there 'twill bloom, And watered by life's river, yield for thee, Immortal fruits. For in that clime alone Can Friendship live in all its purity.
Again I saw her, in a narrow path
She trod; straight was the way, but broken, rough, And oft beset with dangers; but her robes She gathered close around her, and her feet Were shod with sandals suited to the way. Below her far on either side were broad
And pleasant paths, where thousands walked, with songs Of mirth, who loudly called on her, to leave Her dismal way, and journey on with them.
But all in vain, she heeded not, nor heard The sight, or song, or luring call. A cloud Which hid them from her view encompassed her,
And on its top illumined, she beheld
The glorious image of the golden gates
Toward which he hastened, and her eager ear
Was bent to echoes faint and distant far
Of angel minstrelsy. In safety thus
That path she walked, till she approached a deep And fiercely rushing river; over her
And 'round her, all was dark and dismal, there Damp vapors rose, and monsters dragged along, And heaps of human bones lay mouldering there, And hideous sounds were heard, like muttered groans Of deep despair. Firm was her tread, when first She entered this dire place, beyond it shone The gates she sought to reach, and the mild form Of her tried friend, was by her side; but soon That guardian left her, though near by unseen Regarded her. Forsaken thus, she raised A fearful cry for help; when through the gloom A bright transcendant form advanced to her- From his expanded arms dropped dazzling rays, And 'round his brow in massive folds was coiled
A fillet bright of varied gems. He smiled And with soft words, all her deep woes bewailed, And promised ne'er to leave her, if with him She would consent to go; and to a land
Of flowers and sunshine, he would bear her soon; Her's should be wealth untold, and she should wear The gems that sparkled on his brow. And then Untwining them, he bade her hear the sound
Of that dark flood through which she else must pass. To take the proffered gift she raised her hand, But at the touch, her frame with horror chill'd. It was a serpent! and she hurled it down,
And saw the fangs protrude in harmless wrath From out its bruised head. Then she exclaimed, Depart thou base deceiver! well I know Thy deadly hate; how thou would'st see my bones Whitening with those beneath; but now, in this My greatest strait, thy power I do defy!
He fled; then rushed with joy that gentle one,
And clasped her trembling form, and bore her on
Through the dark valley. In that stream they plunged,
And its wild waves closed over them. But lo!
On the far shore they rise! th'eternal gates
Swing wide! then close her in.
Of heaven I caught, then ringing far above Its battlements, in th'empyrean clear, Once more that song of triumph rose.
That same calm voice, again bade me to hope, Beside me stood that form, serene and mild, Into its hand I gave my own, for well
I knew that gentle one had come to guide My weary wanderings, to that world of bliss.
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