And there do graver men behold And thoughts and wishes not of earth, 36 OCTOBER A SONNET AYE, thou art welcome, heaven's delicious breath, In the gay woods and in the golden air, In such a bright, late quiet, would that I Might wear out life like thee, mid bowers and brooks, And, dearer yet, the sunshine of kind looks, And music of kind voices ever nigh; And when my last sand twinkled in the glass, II THE DAMSEL OF PERU WHERE olive leaves were twinkling in every wind that blew, There sat beneath the pleasant shade a damsel of Peru. Betwixt the slender boughs, as they opened to the air, Came glimpses of her ivory neck and of her glossy hair; And sweetly rang her silver voice, within that shady nook, As from the shrubby glen is heard the sound of hidden brook, 'Tis a song of love and valour, in the noble Spanish tongue, That once upon the sunny plains of old Castile was sung; When, from their mountain holds, on the Moorish rout below, ΙΟ Had rushed the Christians like a flood, and swept away For she has bound the sword to a youthful lover's side, And sent him to the war the day she should have been his bride, And bade him bear a faithful heart to battle for the right, And held the fountains of her eyes till he was out of sight. Since the parting kiss was given, six weary months are fled, And yet the foe is in the land, and blood must yet be shed. A white hand parts the branches, a lovely face looks forth, And bright dark eyes gaze steadfastly and sadly toward the north. 20 Thou look'st in vain, sweet maiden, the sharpest sight would fail To spy a sign of human life abroad in all the vale; For the noon is coming on, and the sunbeams fiercely beat, And the silent hills and forest-tops seem reeling in the heat. That white hand is withdrawn, that fair sad face is gone, But the music of that silver voice is flowing sweetly on, Not as of late, in cheerful tones, but mournfully and low 27 A ballad of a tender maid heart-broken long ago, But see, along that mountain's slope, a fiery horseman ride; Mark his torn plume, his tarnished belt, the sabre at his side. His spurs are buried rowel-deep, he rides with loosened rein, There's blood upon his charger's flank, and foam upon the mane; He speeds him toward the olive-grove, along that shaded hill: God shield the helpless maiden there, if he should mean her ill! And suddenly that song has ceased, and suddenly I hear A shriek sent up amid the shade, a shriek—but not of fear. For tender accents follow, and tenderer pauses speak The overflow of gladness, when words are all too weak: 40 'I lay my good sword at thy feet, for now Peru is free, And I am come to dwell beside the olive-grove with thee.' THE AFRICAN CHIEF CHAINED in the market-place he stood, Amid the gathering multitude That shrunk to hear his name- Vainly, but well, that chief had fought, He was a captive now, Yet pride, that fortune humbles not, The scars his dark broad bosom wore, A prince among his tribe before, He could not be a slave. ΤΟ Then to his conqueror he spake— Undo this necklace from my neck, And send me where my brother reigns, With store of ivory from the plains, 'Not for thy ivory nor thy gold A price thy nation never gave For thou shalt be the Christian's slave, Then wept the warrior chief, and bade And one by one, each heavy braid Thick were the plaited locks, and long, Shone many a wedge of gold among 'Look, feast thy greedy eye with gold Take it thou askest sums untold, Take it my wife, the long, long day, And my young children leave their play, 'I take thy gold-but I have made 20 330 40 50 Strong was the agony that shook The captive's frame to hear, His heart was broken-crazed his brain : 60 SPRING IN TOWN THE country ever has a lagging Spring, Within the city's bounds the time of flowers Breathes through the sky of March the airs of May, For the wide sidewalks of Broadway are then II |