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Ere down yon blue Carpathian hills
The sun shall sink again ! Farewell to life and all its ills,
Farewell to cell and chain.
These prison shades are dark and cold,
But, darker far than they, The shadow of a sorrow old
Is on my heart alway.
For since the day when Warkworth wood
Closed o'er my steed and I,
A weed cast out to die,
When, looking back in sunset light,
I saw her turret gleam,
Her sign of farewell stream,
Doth home's green isles descry,
o'er The waste of wave and sky;
So from the desert of my fate
I gaze across the past; Forever on life's dial-plate
The shade is backward cast !
I've wandered wide from shore to shore,
I've knelt at many a shrine ; And bowed me to the rocky floor
Where Bethlehem's tapers shine ; And by the Holy Sepulchre
I've pledged my knightly sword To Christ, his blessed Church, and her,
The Mother of our Lord.
Oh, vain the vow, and vain the strife!
How vain do all things seem! My soul is in the past, and life
To-day is but a dream!
In vain the penance strange and long,
And hard for flesh to bear; The prayer, the fasting, and the thong,
And sackcloth shirt of hair.
The eyes of memory will not sleep,
Its ears are open still ;
Against my feeble will.
And still the loves and joys of old
Do evermore uprise ;
The shine of loving eyes !
· Those golden locks recline ; I see upon another rest
The glance that once Evas mine
"O faithless Priest !-0 perjured knight!”
I hear the Master cry;
Let Earth and Nature die
“ The Church of God is now thy spouse,
And thou the bridegroom art;
Crush down thy human heart !”
Till life itself hath ceased,
The lover and the priest !
And saints, and martyrs old !
A suffering man uphold.
And death unbind my chain,
The sun shall fall again.
THE HOLY LAND.
I HAVE not felt o’er seas of sand,
The rocking of the desert bark;
By Hebron's palm-trees cool and dark;
On dust vhere Job of old has lain,
One vast world-page remains unread;
How shine the stars in Chaldea's sky, How sounds the reverent pilgrim's tread,
How beats the heart with God so nigh!How round gray arch and column lone The spirit
of the old time broods, And sighs in all the winds that mean
Along the sandy solitudes ! In thy tall cedars, Lebanon,
I have not heard the nations' cries,
Where buried Tyre in ruin lies.
In Tadmor's temples of decay,
The waste where Memnon's empire lay.
Nor have I, from thy hallowed tide,
O, Jordan ! heard the low lament, Like that sad wail along thy side,
Which Israel's mournful prophet sent ! Nor thrilled within that grotto lone,
Where deep in night; the Bard of Kings Felt hands of fire direct his own, And
sweep for God the conscious strings.
I have not climbed to Olivet,
Nor laid me where my Saviour lay,
By angel eyes unwept away ;
groan, Wrung by his sorrow and our crime,
Rose to One listening ear alone.
I have not kissed the rock-hewn grot,
Where in his Mother's arms he lay, Nor knelt
the sacred spot Where last his footsteps pressed the clay;
Nor looked on that sad mountain head,
Nor smote my sinful breast, where wide
And bowed his head to bless—and died !
PALESTINE. Blest iand of Judea! thrice hallowed of song, Where the holiest of memories pilgrim-like throng; In the shade of thy palms, by the shores of thy
sea, On the hills of thy beauty, my heart is with thee. With the eye of a spirit I look on that shore, Where pilgrim and prophet have lingered before; With the glide of a spirit I traverse the sod Made bright by the steps of the angels of God. Blue sea of the hills !—in my spirit I hear Thy waters, Genesaret, chime on my ear; Where the Lowly and Just with the people sat
down, And thy spray on the dust of his sandals was
Beyond are Bethulia's mountains of
green, And the desolate hills of the wild Gadarene ; And I pause on the goat-crags of Tabor to see The gleam of thy waters, O dark Galilee ! Hark, a sound in the valley! where, swollen and
strong, Thy river, O Kishon, is sweeping along; Where the Canaanite strove with Jehovah in vain, And thy torrent grew dark with the blood of the