I do implore—spice breathing coolness
Through sultry sun-glow in the vale,
A stone for rest unto the pilgrim
In whirling dust of desert gale.
Turn, I implore, the storm's hot hatred,
The deadly thunderous lightning's course—
In Dariel's wild pass protect me
And my distracted, trembling horse.
Yet one prayer more my heart audacious,
Weeping, lifts up in bodeful stress,
What if my native land forget me
In my sad exile's loneliness?
Will, greeting me by name familiar,
My friend then open wide his arms?
Will e'en my brothers recognise me,
So changed by many griefs and harms?
Perchance my foot will fall profaning
Dust of those loved in youth's far day,
The pure and noble, deeply trusted—
Withered as Autumn leaves in May.
O Kasbek, then with earth o'erwhelm me!
Snow o'er thy weary wanderer back,
And blow away my dust and scatter
Along thy rock-ridged clefts lone track!
LERMONTOFF.
THE ANGEL
Soft singing at midnight through heaven's high blue
A beautiful angel once flew;
The moon and the stars and the clouds in a throng
Attended his wonderful song!
He sang of the bliss of those gardens and coasts
Where live and exult the pure ghosts,
Their songs glad extolling Almighty's grace
Repeated from race unto race.