Nor shall the freight that once it bore Again be seen on lake or shore. A foreign land is now her choice, And unfamiliar is each voice Of those that say they love her. A prince's palace is her home, And circling flatterers hem her in And smooth as mirrors each the while But fitful were her smiles, nor long And should the sound of music fall The smile was gone, the eye that shone And objectless would then appear As stretched to check the starting tear. The chords within responsive rung, For music spoke her native tongue. And then the gay and glittering crowd The leafy coronal of vines ; And o'er the boughs that over-bower The crag, a castle's turrets tower— With ivy flashes back the gleam Thus seized and speechless had she stood, When to her ear came that demand Had she forgot her native land? 'Twas but a voice within replied She had forgotten all beside. For words are weak and most to seek When wanted fifty-fold, And then if silence will not speak, Or trembling lip and changing cheek, There's nothing told. But could she have revealed to him Who questioned thus, the vision bright, That ere his words were said grew dim And vanished from her sight, Easy the answer were to know And plain to understand,— That mind and memory both must fail, And thought its functions must forego, Or ere that land Could pictured be less bright and fair To her whose home and heart are there! The stranger ne'er forgets, then how should she? -Cease the soft sounds, the mellow voice is mute, Where weightier themes may pay the reader's pains. Deeds of the warlike:let the Curtain rise. |