Page:The Forest Sanctuary.pdf/80

This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.
74
THE FOREST SANCTUARY.


XLIV.

"Ora pro nobis, mater!"—What a spell
Was in those notes, with day's last glory dying
On the flush'd waters!—seem'd they not to swell
From the far dust, wherein my sires were lying
With crucifix and sword?—Oh! yet how clear
Comes their reproachful sweetness to mine ear!
"Ora!"—with all the purple waves replying,
All my youth's visions rising in the strain—

—And I had thought it much to bear the rack and chain!


XLV.

Torture!—the sorrow of affection's eye,
Fixing its meekness on the spirit's core,
Deeper, and teaching more of agony,
May pierce than many swords!—and this I bore
With a mute pang. Since I had vainly striven
From its free springs to pour the truth of Heaven
Into thy trembling soul, my Leonor!
Silence rose up where hearts no hope could share:

—Alas! for those that love, and may not blend in prayer!
This article is issued from Wikisource. The text is available under Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 unless otherwise noted. Additional terms may apply for the media files.