Page:Fugitive Poetry 1600-1878.djvu/286
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The Star and the Child.
A maiden walked at eventide
Beside a clear and placid stream,
And smiled, as in its depths she saw
A trembling star's reflected beam.
Beside a clear and placid stream,
And smiled, as in its depths she saw
A trembling star's reflected beam.
She smiled until the beam was lost,
As 'cross the sky a cloud was driven;
And then she sighed, and then forgot
The star was shining still in heaven.
As 'cross the sky a cloud was driven;
And then she sighed, and then forgot
The star was shining still in heaven.
A mother sat beside life's stream,
Watching a dying child at dawn,
And smiled, as from its eye she caught
A hope that it might still live on.
Watching a dying child at dawn,
And smiled, as from its eye she caught
A hope that it might still live on.
She smiled until the eyelids closed,
But watched for breath until the even;
And' then she wept, and then forgot
The child was living still in heaven.
But watched for breath until the even;
And' then she wept, and then forgot
The child was living still in heaven.
The Vulture of the Alps.
I've been among the mighty Alps, and wandered through their vales,
And heard the honest mountaineers relate their dismal tales,
As round the cottage blazing hearth, when their daily work was o'er,
They spake of those who disappeared and ne'er were heard of more.
And there I from a shepherd heard a narrative of fear,
A tale to rend a mortal heart, which mothers might not hear.
The tears were standing in his eyes, his voice was tremulous,
But, wiping all those tears away, he told his story thus:—
"It is among these barren cliffs the ravenous vulture dwells,
Who never fattens on the prey which from afar he smells;
But, patient, watching hour on hour, upon a lofty rock,
He singles out some truant lamb, a victim from the flock.
One cloudless Sabbath summer morn the sun was rising high,
When from my children on the green I heard a fearful cry,
As if some awful deed were done—a shriek, of grief and pain—
A cry, I humbly trust in God, I ne'er may hear again.
I hurried out to learn the cause; but, overwhelmed with fright.
The children never ceased to shriek, and from my frenzied sight
I missed the youngest of my babes, the darling of my care;
But something caught my searching eyes, slow sailing through the air.
And heard the honest mountaineers relate their dismal tales,
As round the cottage blazing hearth, when their daily work was o'er,
They spake of those who disappeared and ne'er were heard of more.
And there I from a shepherd heard a narrative of fear,
A tale to rend a mortal heart, which mothers might not hear.
The tears were standing in his eyes, his voice was tremulous,
But, wiping all those tears away, he told his story thus:—
"It is among these barren cliffs the ravenous vulture dwells,
Who never fattens on the prey which from afar he smells;
But, patient, watching hour on hour, upon a lofty rock,
He singles out some truant lamb, a victim from the flock.
One cloudless Sabbath summer morn the sun was rising high,
When from my children on the green I heard a fearful cry,
As if some awful deed were done—a shriek, of grief and pain—
A cry, I humbly trust in God, I ne'er may hear again.
I hurried out to learn the cause; but, overwhelmed with fright.
The children never ceased to shriek, and from my frenzied sight
I missed the youngest of my babes, the darling of my care;
But something caught my searching eyes, slow sailing through the air.