Which forced me to begin my tale; Since then, at an uncertain hour, And till my ghastly tale is told, I pass like night from land to land; I know the man that must hear me : What loud uproar bursts from that door! But in the garden bower the bride O wedding-guest! this soul hath been So lonely 't was, that God himself C, sweeter than the marriage-feast, To walk together to the kirk, And all together pray, While each to his great Father bends, Old men, and babes, and loving friends, And youths and maidens gay! Farewell, farewell! but this I tel! He prayeth west who loveth best The mariner, whose eye is bright, He went like one that hath been stunned A sadder and a wiser man Aud to teach, by his own exam. ple, love and reverence to all things that God made and loveth. MIRABEAU. — Sterling. Nor oft has peopled Earth sent up A greater power had fled away Than aught that now remained behind. The scathed and haggard face of will, And look so strong with weaponed thought, Had been to many million hearts The All between themselves and naught; And so they stood aghast and pale, Come shattering down, and show beyond For he, while all men trembling peered And when his voice could rule no more, A myriad hands like shadows weak, Or stiff and sharp as bestial claws, Had sought to steer the fluctuant mass That bore his country's life and laws; The rudder felt his giant hand, And quailed beneath the living grasp That now must drop the helm of Fate, Nor pleasure's cup can madly clasp. France did not reck how fierce a storm When death sank heavily on him; Were summed for him as guilt and shame. The wondrous life that flowed so long, It rolled with mighty breadth and sound And left a barren waste of sand. To them at first the world appeared Of him who lived the People's King. O wasted strength! O light and calm Poured down by too benignant Heaven. The mountain hears the torrent dash, Those eyes that joyous drink the sun: Calls down the flash, as if its fires Alas! -Yet wherefore mourn? The law Is holier than a sage's prayer; The godlike power bestowed on men Demands of them a godlike care; And noblest gifts, if basely used, The lamp, that, 'mid the sacred cell, A poisonous vapor glimmering spreads It shines and flares, and reeling ghosts Enormous through the twilight swell, Till o'er the withered world and heart Rings loud and slow the dooming knell. No more I hear a nation's shout A nation's fierce, bewildered wailing; I stand amid the silent night, And think of man and all his woe With fear and pity, grief and awe, When I remember Mirabeau. |