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THE TEAR OF REPENTANCE.
[From "Lallah Rookh," an oriental romance.
ONE morn a Peri at the gate
The fabled Peri of the East closely corresponds to the Fuiry of our legends.]
Through the half-open portal glowing, She wept to think her recreant race Should e'er have lost that glorious place!
How happy," exclaimed this child of air, 66 Are the holy spirits who wander there, 'Mid flowers that never shall fade or fall! Though mine are the gardens of earth and
Then swift his haggard brow he turned
Yet tranquil now that man of crime
One blossom of heaven out-blooms them Fell on the boy's, its lurid glance
The glorious angel who was keeping
Nymph of a fair but erring line!" Gently he said, "one hope is thine. "Tis written in the book of fate,
The Peri yet may be forgiven, Who brings to this eternal gate
The gift that is most dear to Heaven! Go, seek it, and redeem thy sin; "Tis sweet to let the pardoned in!"
Rapidly as comets run
To the embraces of the sun,
And lighted earthward by a glance
Over the vale of Baalbec winging,
The Peri sees a child at play,
Met that unclouded, joyous gaze,
But hark! the vesper call to prayer,
From Syria's thousand minarets!
Kneels, with his forehead to the south,
From purity's own cherub mouth;
And how felt he, the wretched man
"There was a time," he said, in mild,
When young, and haply pure as thou,
And hope and feeling which had slept
And now! behold him kneeling there, By the child's side in humble prayer, While the same sunbeam shines upon The guilty and the guiltless one,
Upon the tear that, warm and meek, Dewed that repentant sinner's cheek: To mortal eye this light might seem A northern flash or meteor beam;
And hymns of joy proclaim through heaven But well th' enraptured Peri knew The triumph of a soul forgiven!
"Twas when the golden orb had set, While on their knees they lingered yet, There fell a light-more lovely far Than ever came from sun or star
"Twas a bright smile the angel threw From heaven's gate, to hail that tearHer harbinger of glory near!
"Joy! joy!" she cried; "my task is doneThe gates are passed, and heaven is won!" MOORE.
A MOTHER'S LOVE.
A MOTHER'S Love! -how sweet the name! | Ten thousand voices answer, "No!"
What is a Mother's Love?
A noble, pure, and tender flame,
Enkindled from above,
To bless a heart of earthly mould-
To bring a helpless babe to light,
And feel herself new-born;
In weakness in her arms to bear,
Then while it slumbers watch its breath,
To mark its growth from day to day,
Of intellectual fire;
To smile and listen while it talks, And lend a finger when it walks;This is a Mother's Love.
And can a Mother's Love grow cold-
Nor weep for grief-for joy?
While wolves devour it on the wild;Is this a Mother's Love?
Ye clasp your babes and kiss; Your bosoms yearn, your eyes o'erflow;
Yet, ah! remember this:
The infant reared alone for earth,
A parent's heart may prove a snare:
Blest infant! whom his mother taught
And poured upon his dawning thought
Behold that Mother's Love! *
Blest mother! who in Wisdom's path,
Ah, youth! like him enjoy your prime,
Taught by that Mother's Love.
That Mother's Love how sweet the
As much of heaven as heart can hold,
PARTING OF HECTOR AND ANDROMACHE.
THE nurse stood near, in whose embraces | Thou from this tower defend th' important
His only hope hung smiling at her breast,
Whom each soft charm and early grace
There Agamemnon points his dreadful host,
That pass Tydides, Ajax, strive to gain,
Fair as the new-born star that gilds the And there the vengeful Spartan fires his
Hung on his hand, and then dejected How would the sons of Troy, in arms re
Her bosom laboured with a boding sigh,
And the big tear stood trembling in her eye.
And Troy's proud dames, whose garments sweep the ground,
Attaint the lustre of my former name,
Too daring prince! ah, whither dost thou Should Hector basely quit the field of run?
Ah, too forgetful of thy wife and son!
A widow I, a helpless orphan he!
My early youth was bred to martial pains, My soul impels me to th' embattled plains: Let me be foremost to defend the throne, And guard my father's glories, and my own. Yet come it will, the day decreed by fates(How my heart trembles while my tongue relates!)
For sure such courage length of life denies;
Oh, grant me, gods! ere Hector meets his And see thy warriors fall, thy glories end.
Some haughty Greek, who lives thy tears
Imbitters all thy woes, by naming me.
A thousand griefs shall waken at the name!
He spoke, and fondly gazing on her charms,
Restored the pleasing burden to her arms: Soft on her fragrant breast the babe she laid,
Hushed to repose, and with a smile surveyed.
The troubled pleasure soon chastised by fear,
She mingled with the smile a tender tear. The softened chief with kind compassion viewed,
Thus having spoke, th' illustrious chief And dried the falling drops, and thus par
of Troy Stretched his fond arms to clasp the lovely
The babe clung crying to his nurse's breast, Scared at the dazzling helm and nodding crest.
Andromache! my soul's far better part! Why with untimely sorrows heaves thy heart?
No hostile hand can antedate my doom,
With secret pleasure each fond parent Till fate condemn me to the silent tomb.
And Hector hasted to relieve his child;
Fixed is the term to all the race of earth;
And placed the beaming helmet on the All sink alike, the fearful and the brave. No more- but hasten to thy tasks at home; There guide the spindle, and direct the loom:
Then kissed the child, and lifting high in air,
Me glory summons to the martial sceneO thou! whose glory fills th' ethereal The field of combat is the sphere for men: Where heroes war, the foremost place I claim
And all ye deathless powers! protect my
Whole hosts may hail him with deserved Sought her own palace, and indulged her acclaim,
And say, This chief transcends his father's There, while her tears deplored the godlike
While pleased amidst the general shouts of Through all the train the soft infection ran;
His mother's conscious heart o'erflows with joy.
And mourn the living Hector as the dead,
ADAM AND EVE IN THE GARDEN OF EDEN.
Now Morn, her rosy steps in the eastern clime
Tunes sweetest his love-laboured song; now reigns
Advancing, sowed the earth with orient Full-orbed the Moon, and with more pleaspearl,
Shadowy sets off the face of things; in vain, If none regard: Heaven wakes with all his eyes,
Whom to behold but thee, Nature's desire?
Attracted by thy beauty still to gaze.'
Awake; the morning shines, and the fresh And on, methought, alone I passed through field Calls us; we lose the prime, to mark how That brought me on a sudden to the tree spring Of interdicted knowledge: fair it seemed,Our tended plants,-how blows the citron Much fairer to my fancy than by day: grove,And, as I wondering looked, beside it stood What drops the myrrh, and what the One shaped and winged like one of those balmy reed,from Heaven How nature paints her colours,-how the By us oft seen; his dewy locks distilled bee
Sits on the bloom extracting liquid sweet." Such whispering waked her, but with startled eye
On Adam; whom embracing, thus she spake:
EVE RELATES HER DREAM.
Ambrosia: on that tree he also gazed:
Deigns none to ease thy load, and taste
Nor God, nor Man? is knowledge so despised?
“O sole in whom my thoughts find all Or envy, or what reserve, forbids to taste? repose, Forbid who will, none shall from me withhold
My glory, my perfection! glad I see
Thy face, and morn returned; for I this Longer thy offered good; why else set here?' night, This said, he paused not, but with ventur
(Such night till this I never passed,) have dreamed,
(If dreamed,) not, as I oft am wont, of thee, Works of day past, or morrow's next design; But of offence and trouble, which my mind
He plucked, he tasted: me damp horror chilled
At such bold words vouched with a deed so bold;
But he thus, overjoyed: 'O fruit divine! Knew never till this irksome night. Me- Sweet of thyself, but much more sweet thought, Close at mine ear, one called me forth to Forbidden here, it seems, as only fit walk For gods, yet able to make gods of men: With gentle voice; I thought it thine: it And why not gods of men, since good, the said,
'Why sleep'st thou, Eve? now is the plea- Communicated, more abundant grows, sant time, The author not impaired, but honoured more?
The cool, the silent, save where silence yields
Here, happy creature, fair angelic Eve, To the night-warbling bird, that now awake Partake thou also; happy though thou art,