EVELYN HOPE. BEAUTIFUL Evelyn Hope is dead! Sit and watch by her side an hour. That is her book-shelf, this her bed; I have lived, I shall say, so much since then, Ransacked the ages, spoiled the climes; She plucked that piece of geranium-flower, And I want and find you, Evelyn Hope! Beginning to die, too, in the glass. Little has yet been changed, I think; Sixteen years old when she died! Perhaps she had scarcely heard my nameIt was not her time to love; beside, Her life had many a hope and aim, Duties enough and little cares; And now was quiet, now astir— Till God's hand beckoned unawares, And the sweet white brow is all of her. Is it too late, then, Evelyn Hope? What! your soul was pure and true; The good stars met in your horoscope, Made you of spirit, fire and dew; And just because I was thrice as old, And our paths in the world diverged so Each was naught to each, must I be told? No, indeed! for God above Is great to grant, as mighty to make, And creates the love to reward the love; I claim you still, for my own love's sake! Delayed, it may be, for more lives yet, What is the issue? let us see! I loved you, Evelyn, all the while; My heart seemed full as it could holdThere was place and to spare for the frank young smile And the red young mouth and the hair's young gold. So, hush! I will give you this leaf to keep; ROBERT BROWNING. HIGHLAND MARY. YE banks, and braes, and streams around Green be your woods, and fair your flowers, There simmer first unfald her robes How sweetly bloomed the gay green birk! Through worlds I shall traverse, not a As underneath their fragrant shade few; Much is to learn and much to forget But the time will come-at last it will- In the lower earth-in the years long still- And what you would do with me, in fine, In the new life come in the old one's stead. I clasped her to my bosom? Flew o'er me and my dearie; Was my sweet Highland Mary. Wi' monie a vow and locked embrace We tore ourselves asunder; That nipt my flower sae early! Ayr, gurgling, kissed his pebbled shore, O'erhung with wild woods, thickening, green; The fragrant birch, and hawthorn hoar, Twined amorous round the raptured scene. The flowers sprang wanton to be prest, The birds sang love on every spray, Still o'er these scenes my memory wakes, Where is thy place of blissful rest? ROBERT BURNS. LAODAMIA. "WITH sacrifice before the rising morn Vows have I made by fruitless hope inspired; And from th' infernal gods, 'mid shades forlorn Of night, my slaughtered lord have I required: Celestial pity I again implore; Restore him to my sight-great Jove, restore!” So speaking, and by fervent love endowed With faith, the suppliant heavenward lifts her hands; While, like the sun emerging from a cloud, Her count'nance brightens and her eye expands; Her bosom heaves and spreads, her stature grows; And she expects the issue in repose. O terror! what hath she perceived?—O joy! What doth she look on ?-whom doth she behold? Her hero slain upon the beach of Troy? Mild Hermes spake-and touched her with his wand That calms all fear: "Such grace hath crowned thy prayer, Laodamia! that at Jove's command Accept the gift, behold him face to face!" Forth sprang the impassioned queen her lord to clasp; Again that consummation she essayed; LAODAMIA. Of all that is most beauteous, imaged there And fields invested with purpureal gleams; Earth knows, is all unworthy to survey. Yet there the soul shall enter which hath earned That privilege by virtue.-"Ill," said he, "The end of man's existence I discerned, Who from ignoble games and revelry 327 "And thou, though strong in love, art all In reason, in self-government too slow; Be thy affections raised and solemnized. "Learn, by a mortal yearning, to ascend,— Seeking a higher object. Love was given, Encouraged, sanctioned, chiefly for that end; For this the passion to excess was driven,-That self might be annulled-her bondage prove Could draw, when we had parted, vain delight, While tears were thy best pastime, day and The fetters of a dream, opposed to love." night; "And while my youthful peers before my Aloud she shrieked! for Hermes reappears! He through the portal takes his silent way, "The wished-for wind was given;-I then And on the palace floor a lifeless corse she revolved The oracle, upon the silent sea; lay. Thus, all in vain exhorted and reproved, And, if no worthier led the way, resolved sand. "Yet bitter, ofttimes bitter, was the pang -Yet tears to human suffering are due; And mortal hopes defeated and o'erthrown Are mourned by man, and not by man alone, As fondly he believes.-Upon the side My new-planned cities, and unfinished towers. Of Hellespont (such faith was entertained) A knot of spiry trees for ages grew From out the tomb of him for whom she "But should suspense permit the foe to cry, died; And ever, when such stature they had gained Old frailties then recurred; but lofty The trees' tall summits withered at the sight; thought, In act embodied, my deliverance wrought. A constant interchange of growth and blight! |