Page:The Forest Sanctuary.pdf/54

And calm'd I rose:—but how the while had risen
Morn's orient sun, dissolving mist and shade!
—Could there indeed be wrong, or chain, or prison,
In the bright world such radiance might pervade?
It fill'd the fane, it mantled the pale form
Which rose before me through the pictured storm,
Even the grey tombs it kindled, and array'd
With life!—how hard to see thy race begun,

I sought my home again;—and thou, my child,
There at thy play beneath yon ancient pine,
With eyes, whose lightning laughter^10[1] hath beguil'd
A thousand pangs, thence flashing joy to mine;
Thou in thy mother's arms, a babe, didst meet
My coming with young smiles, which yet, though sweet,
Seem'd on my soul all mournfully to shine,
And ask a happier heritage for thee,