PRAYER OF ARTHUR'S FATHER.
"O Maiden!"—thus the sire begun—
"O Maiden, do not scorn my prayer:
I have a hapless idiot son,
To all my wealth the only heir;
And day by day, in shine or rain,
He wanders forth, to gaze again
Upon those eyes, whose looks of kindness
Still haunt him in his world of blindness;
A sunless world!—all arts to yield
Light to the mind from childhood seal'd
Have been explored in vain.
Few are his joys on earth;—above,
For every ill a cure is given—
God grant me life to cheer with love
The wanderer's guileless path to Heaven."
He paused—his heart was full—"And now,
What brings the suppliant father here?
Yes, few the joys that life bestows
On him whose life is but repose—
One night, from year to year;—
Yet not so dark, O maid, if thou
Couldst let his shadow catch thy light,
Couldst to his lip that smile allow
Which comes but at thy sight;
Couldst—(for the smile is still so rare,
And oh, so innocent the joy!)
His presence, though it pain thee, bear,
Nor fear the harmless idiot boy!"
Then Eva's father, from her brow
Parted the golden locks, descending
To veil the sweet face, downwards bending:—
And, pointing to the swimming eyes,
The dew-drops glist'ning on the cheek,
"Mourner!" the happier father cries,
"These tears her answer speak!"
Oh, sweet the jasmine's buds of snow,
In mornings soft with May;
Oh, silver-clear the waves that flow
In summer skies away;—
But sweeter looks of kindness seem
O'er human trouble bow'd,
And gentle hearts reflect the beam
Less truly than the cloud.
IV.
THE YOUNG TEACHER.
Of wonders on the land and deeps
She spoke, and glories in the sky—
The Eternal life the Father keeps,
For those who learn from Him to die.
So simply did the maiden speak—
So simply and so earnestly,
You saw the light begin to break,
And Soul the Heaven to see;
You saw how slowly, day by day,
The darksome waters caught the ray
Confused and broken—come and gone—
The beams as yet uncertain are,
But still the billows murmur on,
And struggle for the star.
V.
THE STRANGER SUITOR.
There came to Eva's maiden home
A Stranger from a sunnier clime;
The lore that Hellas taught to Rome,
The wealth that Wisdom works from Time,
Which ever, in its ebb and flow,
Heaves to the seeker on the shore
The waifs of glorious wrecks below,
The argosies of yore;—
Each gem that in that dark profound
The Past,—the Student's soul can find;
Shone from his thought, and sparkled round
The Enchanted Palace of the Mind.
In man's best years, his form was fair,
Broad brow with hyacinth locks of hair;
A port, though stately, not severe;
An eye that could the heart control;
A voice whose music to the ear,
Became a memory to the soul.
It seem'd as Nature's hand had done
Her most to mould her kingly son;
But oft beneath the sunlit Nile
The grim destroyer waits its prey,
And dark, below that fatal smile,
The lurking demon lay.
How trustful in the leafy June,
She roved with him the lonely vale;
How trustful by the tender moon,
She blushed to hear a tenderer tale.
O happy Earth! the dawn revives,
Day after day, each drooping flower—
Time to the heart once only gives
The joyous Morning Hour.
"To him—oh, wilt thou pledge thy youth,
For whom the world's false bloom is o'er?
My heart shall haven in thy truth,
And tempt the faithless wave no more.
In my far land, a sun more bright
Sheds rose-hues o'er a tideless sea;
But cold the wave, and dull the light,
Without the sunshine found in thee.
Say, wilt thou come, the Stranger's bride,
To that bright land and tideless sea?
There is no sun but by thy side—
My life's whole sunshine smiles in thee!"