THE SISTERS OF SCIO.
“As are our hearts, our way is one,
And cannot be divided. Strong affection
Contends with all things, and o’ercometh all things.
Will I not live with thee? will I not cheer thee?
Wouldst thou be lonely then? wouldst thou be sad?”
Joanna Baillie.
“Sister, sweet sister! let me weep awhile!
Bear with me—give the sudden passion way!
Thoughts of our own lost home, our sunny isle,
Come as a wind that o’er a reed hath sway;
Till my heart dies with yearnings and sick fears—
Oh! could my life melt from me in these tears!
“Our father’s voice, our mother’s gentle eye,
Our brother’s bounding step—where are they, where?
Desolate, desolate our chambers lie!
—How hast thou won thy spirit from despair?
O’er mine swift shadows, gusts of terror, sweep:
I sink away—bear with me—let me weep!”
“Yes! weep my sister! weep, till from thy heart
The weight flow forth in tears; yet sink thou not.
I bind my sorrow to a lofty part,
For thee, my gentle one! our orphan lot
To meet in quenchless trust. My soul is strong:
Thou, too, wilt rise in holy might ere long.
“A breath of our free heavens and noble sires,
A memory of our old victorious dead—
These mantle me with power; and though their fires
In a frail censer briefly may be shed,
Yet shall they light us onward, side by side—
Have the wild birds, and have not we, a guide?
“Cheer, then, beloved! on whose meek brow is set
Our mother’s image—in whose voice a tone,
A faint, sweet sound of hers is lingering yet,
An echo of our childhood’s music gone.
Cheer thee! thy sister’s heart and faith are high:
Our path is one—with thee I live and die!”
[“But who are they that sit, mourning in their loveliness, beneath the shadow of a rock on the surf-beaten shore? The Sisters of Scio ... by Felicia Dorothea Hemans sung. Die—rather let them die in famine amongst sea-sand shells, than ere their virgin charms be polluted in the harem of the barbarian who has desolated their native isle. Bowed down and half dead, beneath what a load of anguish hangs the orphan’s dishevelled head on the knee of a sister, in pensive resignation, and holy faith triumphant over despair, as Felicia happily singeth!”—Professor Wilson, Blackwood’s Magazine. Dec. 1829.]