Alas! my fond inquiring soul,
Doomed in suspense to mourn,
Now let thy moments calmly roll,
Now let thy peace return.
Why should'st thou let a doubt disturb
Thy hopes which daily rise,
And urge thee on to trust his word,
Who built and rules the skies?
When Murder sent her hopeless cries,
More dreadful through the gloom,
And kindling flames did round thee rise,
Deep harvests to consume.
Who was it led thee through the wood,
And o'er the ensanguined plain,
Unseen by ambushed sons of blood,
Who track'd thy steps in vain.
'Twas pitying Heaven that check'd my tears,
And bade my infants play,
To give an opiate to my fears
And cheer the lonely way.
And in the doubly dreadful night,
When my Abella died,
When horror-struck--detesting light,
I sunk down by her side;
When winged for flight my spirit stood,
With this fond thought beguiled,
To lead my charmer to her God,
And there to claim my child.
Again his mercy o'er my breast
Effus'd the breath of peace,
Subsiding passion sunk to rest,
He bade the tempest cease.
Oh, let me ever, ever praise
Such undeserved care,
Though languid may appear my lays,
At least they are sincere.
It is my joy that thou art God,
Eternal and supreme;
Rise, Nature--hail the power aloud,
From whom Creation came.
BALLAD.
BY MRS. EMMA C. EMBURY.
"La rose cueillie et le coeur gagné ne plaisent qu'un jour."
The maiden sat at her busy wheel,
Her heart was light and free,
And ever in cheerful song broke forth
Her bosom's harmless glee.
Her song was in mockery of love,
And oft I heard her say,
"The gathered rose, and the stolen heart,
Can charm but for a day."
I looked on the maiden's rosy cheek,
And her lip so full and bright,
And I sighed to think that the traitor love,
Should conquer a heart so light:
But she thought not of future days of wo,
While she carroled in tones so gay;
"The gathered rose, and the stolen heart,
Can charm but for a day."
A year passed on, and again I stood
By the humble cottage-door;
The maid sat at her busy wheel,
But her look was blithe no more:
The big tear stood in her downcast eye,
And with sighs I heard her say,
"The gathered rose, and the stolen heart,
Can charm but for a day."
Oh! well I knew what had dimmed her eye,
And made her cheek so pale;
The maid had forgotten her early song,
While she listened to love's soft tale.
She had tasted the sweets of his poisoned cup,
It had wasted her life away:
And the stolen heart, like the gathered rose,
Had charmed but for a day.