Then rose one wild, half-stifled cry; The swimmer's bubbling breath Was all unheard, while the raging tide Wrought well the task of death; But 'mid the billows still was seen The stranger's struggling form; And the meteor flash of his sword might seem Like a beacon 'mid the storm.
For still, while with his strong right arm He buffeted the wave, The other upheld that treasured prize He would give life to save. Was then the love of pelf so strong That e'en in death's dark hour, The base-born passion could awake With such resistless power?
No! all earth's gold were dross to him, Compared with what lay hid, Through lonely years of changeless woe, Beneath that casket's lid; For there was all the mind's rich wealth, And many a precious gem That, in after years, he hoped might form A poet's diadem.
Nobly he struggled till, o'erspent, His nerveless limbs no more Could bear him on through the waves that rose Like barriers to the shore; Yet still he held his long prized wealth, He saw the wished-for land— A moment more, and he was thrown Upon the rocky strand.
Alas! far better to have died Where the mighty billows roll, Than lived till coldness and neglect Bowed down his haughty soul: Such was his dreary lot, at once His country's pride and shame; For on Camoen's humble grave alone Was placed his wreath of fame.
LOVE AND FAITH; A BALLAD.
BY C. F. HOFFMAN.
'Twas on one morn, in spring-time weather, A rosy, warm, inviting hour, That Love and Faith went out together, And took the path to Beauty's bower. Love laughed and frolicked all the way, While sober Faith, as on they rambled, Allowed the thoughtless boy to play, But watched him, wheresoe'er he gamboled.
So warm a welcome, Beauty smiled Upon the guests whom chance had sent her, That Love and Faith were both beguiled The grotto of the nymph to enter; And when the curtains of the skies The drowsy hand of Night was closing, Love nestled him in Beauty's eyes, While Faith was on her heart reposing.