Part 21 (2/2)

Is the lost one lost to me forever?

Trust me, with him joyfully I stray There, where naught united souls can sever, And where every tear is wiped away.

And thou, too, wilt find us in yon heaven, When thy love with our love can compare; There my father dwells, his sins forgiven,-- Murder foul can never reach him there.

And he feels that him no vision cheated When he gazed upon the stars on high; For as each one metes, to him 'tis meted; Who believes it, hath the Holy nigh.

Faith is kept in those blest regions yonder With the feelings true that ne'er decay.

Venture thou to dream, then, and to wander n.o.blest thoughts oft lie in childlike play.

THE ANTIQUE TO THE NORTHERN WANDERER.

Thou hast crossed over torrents, and swung through wide-spreading ocean,-- Over the chain of the Alps dizzily bore thee the bridge, That thou might'st see me from near, and learn to value my beauty, Which the voice of renown spreads through the wandering world.

And now before me thou standest,--canst touch my altar so holy,-- But art thou nearer to me, or am I nearer to thee?

THE ILIAD.

Tear forever the garland of Homer, and number the fathers Of the immortal work, that through all time will survive!

Yet it has but one mother, and bears that mother's own feature, 'Tis thy features it bears,--Nature,--thy features eterne!

POMPEII AND HERCULANEUM.

What wonder this?--we ask the lympid well, O earth! of thee--and from thy solemn womb What yieldest thou?--is there life in the abyss-- Doth a new race beneath the lava dwell?

Returns the past, awakening from the tomb?

Rome--Greece!--Oh, come!--Behold--behold! for this!

Our living world--the old Pompeii sees; And built anew the town of Dorian Hercules!

House upon house--its silent halls once more Opes the broad portico!--Oh, haste and fill Again those halls with life!--Oh, pour along Through the seven-vista'd theatre the throng!

Where are ye, mimes?--Come forth, the steel prepare For crowned Atrides, or Orestes haunt, Ye choral Furies, with your dismal chant!

The arch of triumph!--whither leads it?--still Behold the forum!--on the curule chair Where the majestic image? Lictors, where Your solemn fasces?--Place upon his throne The Praetor--here the witness lead, and there Bid the accuser stand

--O G.o.d! how lone The clear streets glitter in the quiet day-- The footpath by the doors winding its lifeless way!

The roofs arise in shelter, and around The desolate Atrium--every gentle room Wears still the dear familiar smile of home!

Open the doors--the shops--on dreary night Let l.u.s.ty day laugh down in jocund light!

See the trim benches ranged in order!--See The marble-tesselated floor--and there The very walls are glittering livingly With their clear colors. But the artist, where!

Sure but this instant he hath laid aside Pencil and colors!--Glittering on the eye Swell the rich fruits, and bloom the flowers!--See all Art's gentle wreaths still fresh upon the wall!

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