Page:The Forest Sanctuary.pdf/114

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LAYS OF MANY LANDS.



"The bride comes forth! her tears no more are falling
To leave the chamber of her infant years;
Kind voices from a distant home are calling;
She comes like day-spring—she hath done with tears;
Now must her dark eye shine on other flowers,

Her soft smile gladden other hearts than ours!

—Pour the rich odours round!

"We haste! the chosen and the lovely bringing;
Love still goes with her from her place of birth;
Deep silent joy within her soul is springing,
Though in her glance the light no more is mirth!
Her beauty leaves us in its rosy years;

Her sisters weep—but she hath done with tears!

—Now may the timbrel sound!"

Know'st thou for whom they sang the bridal numbers?
—One, whose rich tresses were to wave no more!
One, whose pale cheek soft winds, nor gentle slumbers,
Nor Love's own sigh, to rose-tints might restore!
Her graceful ringlets o'er a bier were spread.—

—Weep for the young, the beautiful,—the dead!"
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