The fern was press'd beneath her hair, The dark green adder's tongue was there; That pallid cheek was flushed: her eager look Strange was the dream .TELL'S BIRTH-PLACE. IMITATED FROM STOLBERG. 1. MARK this holy chapel well! The birth-place, this, of William Tell. II. Here, first, an infant to her breast, Him his loving mother prest; And kissed the babe, and blessed the day, And prayed as mothers use to pray. III. "Vouchsafe him health, O God! and give The child thy servant still to live!" But God had destined to do more Through him, than through an armed power. IV. God gave him reverence of laws, Yet stirring blood in Freedom's cause— A spirit to his rocks akin, The eye of the hawk, and the fire therein! V. To Nature and to Holy Writ Alone did God the boy commit: Where flashed and roared the torrent, oft VI. The straining oar and chamois chase VII. He knew not that his chosen hand, A CHRISTMAS CAROL. I. THE shepherds went their hasty way, And now they checked their eager tread, 11. They told her how a glorious light, III. She listened to the tale divine, And closer still the Babe she prest; Joy rose within her, like a summer's morn; IV. Thou Mother of the Prince of Peace, That strife should vanish, battle cease, O why should this thy soul elate? Sweet music's loudest note, the poet's story,Did'st thou ne'er love to hear of fame and glory? V. And is not War a youthful king, A stately hero clad in mail? Beneath his footsteps laurels spring; Him earth's majestic monarchs hail Their friend, their playmate! and his bold bright eye Compels the maiden's love-confessing sigh. VI. "Tell this in some more courtly scene, To maids and youths in robes of state! I am a woman poor and mean, And therefore is my soul elate. War is a ruffian, all with guilt defiled, VII. "A murderous fiend, by fiends adored, He kills the sire and starves the son; The husband kills, and from her board Steals all his widow's toil had won; Plunders God's world of beauty; rends away All safety from the night, all comfort from the day. VIII. "Then wisely is my soul elate, The Mother of the Prince of Peace. HUMAN LIFE, ON THE DENIAL OF IMMORTALITY. Ir dead, we cease to be; if total gloom She formed with restless hands unconsciously! Blank accident! nothing's anomaly ! If rootless thus, thus substanceless thy state, Go, weigh thy dreams, and be thy hopes, thy fears, The counter-weights!—Thy laughter and thy tears |