Page:The Forest Sanctuary.pdf/175

I lull'd thee not to this repose, Ianthis! my sweet son!
As in thy glowing childhood's time by twilight I have done!
—How is it that I bear to stand and look upon thee now?
And that I die not, seeing death on thy pale glorious brow?

"I look upon thee, thou that wert of all most fair and brave!
I see thee wearing still too much of beauty for the grave!
Though mournfully thy smile is fix'd, and heavily thine eye
Hath shut above the falcon-glance that in it lov'd to lie;
And fast is bound the springing step, that seem'd on breezes borne,
When to thy couch I came and said,—'Wake, hunter, wake! 'tis morn!'
Yet art thou lovely still, my flower! untouch'd by slow decay,
—And I, the wither'd stem remain—I would that grief might slay!

"Oh! ever when I met thy look, I knew that this would be!
I knew too well that length of days was not a gift for thee!
I saw it in thy kindling cheek, and in thy bearing high;—
A voice came whispering to my soul, and told me thou must die!
That thou must die, my fearless one! where swords were flashing red.—
—Why doth a mother live to say—my first-born and my dead?