THE SOLDIER’S DEATH-BED.
“Wie herrlich die Sonne dort untergeht! da ich noch ein Bube war—war’s mein Lieblingsgedanke, wie sie zu leben, wie sie zu sterben!”
Die Rauber.
Like thee to die, thou sun!—My boyhood’s dream
Was this; and now my spirit, with thy beam,
Ebbs from a field of victory!—yet the hour
Bears back upon me, with a torrent’s power,
Nature’s deep longings. Oh! for some kind eye
Wherein to meet love’s fervent farewell gaze;
Some breast to pillow life’s last agony,
Some voice, to speak of home and better days,
Beyond the pass of shadows! But I go,
I that have been so loved, go hence alone;
And ye, now gathering round my own hearth’s glow,
Sweet friends! it may be that a softer tone,
Ev’n in this moment, with your laughing glee,
Mingles its cadence while you speak of me—
Of me, your soldier, midst the mountains lying,
On the red banner of his battles dying,
Far, far away! And oh! your parting prayer—
Will not his name be fondly murmur’d there?
It will!—A blessing on that holy hearth!
Though clouds are darkening to o’ercast its mirth.
Mother! I may not hear thy voice again;
Sisters! ye watch to greet my step in vain;
Young brother, fare thee well!—on each dear head
Blessing and love a thousandfold be shed,
My soul’s last earthly breathings! May your home
Smile for you ever!—May no winter come,
No world, between your hearts! May ev’n your tears,
For my sake, full of long-remember’d years,
Quicken the true affections that entwine
Your lives in one bright bond! I may not sleep
Amidst our fathers, where those tears might shine
Over my slumbers; yet your love will keep
My memory living in th’ ancestral halls,
Where shame hath never trod. The dark night falls,
And I depart. The brave are gone to rest,
The brothers of my combats, on the breast
Of the red field they reap’d:—their work is done—
Thou, too, art set!—farewell, farewell, thou sun!
The last lone watcher of the bloody sod
Offers a trusting spirit up to God.