As thus I mused amidst the various train
Of toil-worn wanderers of the perilous main,
Two sailors,—well I marked them, as the beam
Of parting day yet lingered on the stream,
And the sun sank behind the shady reach,—
Hastened with tottering footsteps to the beach.
The one had lost a limb in Nile's dread fight;
Total eclipse had veiled the other's sight,
For ever. As I drew, more anxious, near,
I stood intent, if they should speak, to hear;
But neither said a word. He who was blind,
Stood as to feel the comfortable wind,
That gently lifted his gray hair—his face
Seemed then of a faint smile to wear the trace.
The other fixed his gaze upon the light,
Parting, and when the sun had vanished quite,
Methought a starting tear that Heaven might bless,
Unfelt, or felt with transient tenderness,
Came to his aged eyes, and touched his cheek!
And then, as meek and silent as before,
Back, hand in hand, they went, and left the shore.
As they departed through the unheeding crowd,
A caged bird sang from the casement loud,
And then I heard alone that blind man say,
The music of the bird is sweet to-day!
I said, O heavenly Father! none may know
The cause these have for silence or for woe!
Here they appeared heartstricken and resigned
Amidst the unheeding tumult of mankind.
There is a world, a pure unclouded clime,
Where there is neither grief, nor death, nor time,
Nor loss of friends! Perhaps when yonder bell
Pealed slow, and bade the dying day farewell,
Ere yet the glimmering landscape sank to night,
They thought upon that world of distant light!
And when the blind man, lifting light his hair,
Felt the faint wind, he raised a warmer prayer;
Then sighed, as the blithe bird sang o'er his head,
No morn shall shine on me till I am dead!
GLASTONBURY ABBEY AND WELLS CATHEDRAL.
WRITTEN AFTER VIEWING THE RUINS OF THE ONE, AND HEARING THE CHURCH SERVICE IN THE OTHER.
Glory and boast of Avalon's fair vale,
How beautiful thy ancient turrets rose!
Fancy yet sees them, in the sunshine pale,
Gleaming, or, more majestic, in repose,
When, west-away, the crimson landscape glows,
Casting their shadows on the waters wide.[198]
How sweet the sounds, that, at still day-light's close,
Came blended with the airs of eventide,
When through the glimmering aisle faint "Misereres" died!