The American Union Speaker Part 28

"Eye hath not seen it, my gentle boy!

Ear hath not heard its deep songs of joy; Dreams cannot picture a world so fair-- Sorrow and death may not enter there; Time doth not breathe on its fadeless bloom, For beyond the clouds, and beyond the tomb, --It is there, it is there, my child"

Mrs. Hemans.

CLXXIII.

LANDING OF THE PILGRIM FATHERS.

The breaking waves dashed high On a stern and rock-bound coast, And the woads against a stormy sky Their giant branches tossed;

And the heavy night hung dark The hills and waters o'er, When a band of Exiles moored their bark On the wild New England sh.o.r.e.

Not as the conqueror comes, They, the true-hearted, came; Not with the roll of the stirring drums And the trumpet that sings of fame;

Not as the flying come, In silence and in fear;-- They shook the depths of the desert's gloom With their hymns of lofty cheer.

Amidst the storm they sang, And the stars heard, and the sea!

And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang To the anthem of the free!

The ocean eagle soared From his nest by the white wave's foam, And the rocking pines of the forest roared;-- This was their welcome home!

There were men with h.o.a.ry hair Amidst that Pilgrim band; Why have they come to wither there, Away from their childhood's land?

There was woman's fearless eye, Lit by her deep love's truth; There was manhood's brow, serenely high, And the fiery heart of youth.

What sought they thus, afar?

Bright jewels of the mine?

The wealth of seas, the spoils of war?

--They sought a faith's pure shrine!

Ay, call it holy ground, The soil where first they trod!

They have left unstained what there they found-- Freedom to wors.h.i.+p G.o.d!

Mrs. Hemans.

CLXXIV

BERNARDO DEL CARPIO.

The warrior bowed his crested head, and tamed his heart of fire, And sued the haughty king to free his long-imprisoned sire;-- "I bring thee here my fortress-keys, I bring my captive train, I pledge thee faith, my liege, my lord!--O! break my father's chain!"

--"Rise, rise! even now thy father comes, a ransomed man this day!

Mount thy good horse; and thou and I will meet him on his way."

Then lightly rose that loyal son, and bounded on his steed, And urged, as if with lance in rest, the charger's foamy speed.

And lo! from far, as on they pressed, there came a glittering band, With one that 'midst them stately rode, as leader in the land: "Now haste, Bernardo, haste! for there, in very truth, is he, The father whom thy faithful heart hath yearned so long to see."

His dark eye flashed, his proud breast heaved, his cheek's hue came and went; He reached that gray-haired chieftain's side, and there, dismounting, bent; A lowly knee to earth he bent, his father's hand he took-- What was there in its touch that all his fiery spirit shook?

That hand was cold--a frozen thing--it dropped from his like lead!

He looked up to the face above,--the face was of the dead!

A plume waved o'er the n.o.ble brow,--the brow was fixed and white: He met at last, his father's eyes,--but in them was no light!

Up from the ground he sprang and gazed,--but who could paint that gaze?

They hushed their very hearts that saw its horror and amaze;-- They might have chained him, as before that stony form he stood; For the power was stricken from his arm, and from his lip the blood.

"Father!" at length he murmured low, and wept like childhood then: Talk not of grief till thou hast seen the tears of warlike men!

He thought on all his hopes, and all his young renown,-- He flung his falchion from his side, and in the dust sat down.

Then covering with his steel-gloved hands his darkly mournful brow,-- "No more, there is no more," he said, "to lift the sword for, now; My king is false,--my hope betrayed! My father--O! the worth, The glory, and the loveliness are pa.s.sed away from earth!

"I thought to stand where banners waved, my sire, beside thee, yet!

I would that there our kindred blood on Spain's free soil had met!

Thou wouldst have known my spirit, then;--for thee my fields were won; And thou hast perished in thy chains, as though thou hadst no son!"

Then, starting from the ground once more, he seized the monarch's rein, Amidst the pale and wildered looks of all the courtier train; And, with a fierce, o'ermastering grasp, the rearing war-horse led And sternly set them face to face--the king before the dead:--

"Came I not forth, upon thy pledge, my father's hand to kiss?-- Be still, and gaze thou on, false king! and tell me what is this?

The voice, the glance, the heart I sought,--give answer, where are they?

If thou wouldst clear thy perjured soul, send life through this cold clay!

"Into these gla.s.sy eyes put light;--be still! keep down thine ire!-- Bid these white lips a blessing speak,--this earth is not my sire: Give me back him for whom I strove, for whom my blood was shed!-- Thou canst not?--and a king!--his dust be mountains on thy head"

He loosed the steed,--his slack hand fell;--upon the silent face He cast one long, deep, troubled look, then turned from that sad place: His hope was crushed, his after fate untold in martial strain:-- His banner led the spears no more, amidst the hills of Spain.

Mrs. Hemans.

CLXXV.

BERNARDO AND KING ALPHONSO.

With some good ten of his chosen men, Bernardo hath appeared, Before them all in the palace hall, The lying king to beard; With cap in hand and eye on ground, He came in reverend guise, But ever and anon he frowned, And flame broke from his eyes.

"A curse upon thee," cries the king, "Who com'st unbid to me!

But what from traitor's blood should spring, Save traitor like to thee?

His sire, lords, had a traitor's heart,-- Perchance our champion brave May think it were a pious part To share Don Sancho's grave."

--"Whoever told this tale, The king hath rashness to repeat,"

Cries Bernard, "here my gage I fling Before the liar's feet!

No treason was in Sancho's blood-- No stain in mine doth lie: Below the throne what knight will own The coward calumny?

"The blood that I like water shed, When Roland did advance, By secret traitors hired and led, To make us slaves of France; The life of king Alphonso I saved at Roncesval-- Your words, Lord King, are recompense Abundant for it all.

"Your horse was down--your hope was flown-- I saw the falchion s.h.i.+ne That soon had drunk your royal blood, Had I not ventured mine; But memory soon of service done Deserteth the ingrate; You've thanked the son for life and crown By the father's b.l.o.o.d.y fate.

"Ye swore upon your kingly faith To set Don Sancho free; But, curse upon your paltering breath!

The light he never did see; He died in dungeon cold and dim, By Alphonso's base decree; And visage blind and stiffened limb, Were all they gave to me.

"The king that swerveth from his word, Hath stained his purple black; No Spanish lord will draw his sword Behind a liar's back; But n.o.ble vengeance shall be mine, And open hate I'll show-- The king hath injured Carpio's line, And Bernard is his foe!"