FullReads

VIII.

Was her hope vain? She thought not, when she saw
Her father’s face; and when he spoke, the hope
Flushed into certainty. “Let him repose–
He hath heard news that will revive his soul.
No evil dreams shall vex him;–let him rest.
Watch thou beside him, Lily, if thou wilt,
And when he wakes, make known that I am here.
Say nothing more of me, but of thyself
All that thy love may dictate. He is healed.”

IX.

And so it happened. “Lily,” said her lord,
Ere passed the week, as, leaning on her arm.
He walked in sunshine through the leafy lanes,
And caught the odorous breezes on his cheeks–
“I feel new life; all joys that I had lost
Have come back greater, fairer than before;
To thee I owe them, and thy saintly sire.
When I am stronger, as I soon shall be,
I’ll tell thee all the evil I have done
Since last I left thee for the golden land;
And all the good, I hope, full blessed with thee.
To do hereafter. Courage fails me yet–
But no, not courage;–only strength;–that comes
Daily and hourly. Meanwhile, the blue sky.
The wind that wantons ‘mid the beechen boughs,
And sports amid thy hair, dear love, and mine;
The sunshine, and the wild flow’rs by the way,
The innocent carol of the heartsome birds.
Fill me with joy so deep, I dread to tell
How blest I am, lest telling it should mar.
And seem to invite the lurking fiends that watch
To strike the goblet from our thirsty lips.
And punish happiness that boasts too soon;–
As if they said–‘since happiness can be
The fault is ours;–out with it from the world!'”

X.

“Be glad and fear not!” was the prompt reply,
“Innocent joy is piety to God,
A joy diffusive, like the light of heaven.
Fair in itself, and making all things fair,
Even in its shadow!” Thus they walked and spoke;
And thus came splendour to his fading eye,
Thus came the crimson to his pallid cheek.
The hopeful courage to his youthful heart
That Sorrow had not dulled with apathy.
Or punctured with the poisonous gall of hate.

XI.

“Thy father knows my secret–so must thou,”
Said Aubrey to his wife one summer morn,
Sitting upon the green sward ‘mid the flowers;
“I’ve strength to tell it, and from thee, sweet heart,
I may hide nothing–of thy love secure;–
Dreading to lose thy love, I might conceal
Aught that would rob me of the meanest mite
Of an affection which is more than life;–
That which upholds it, chastens and adorns.

XII.

“The shadow is past: the storm-bent tree, unscathed,
Stands in its place and lifts its boughs to heaven,
And if I’ve suffered–suffering nerves the strong.
The placid river, flowing throTigh the mead,
Shows not its strength; but when its pathway slopes
Downwards ‘mid jagged rocks, and chasms austere,
It knows the task necessity decreed,
And awes the world with spectacle of power.
Such course I’ve run; and now, grown calm once more,
I can reflect the starlight of thine eyes.
And mirror in clear heart the things of heaven.
Come place thy hand in mine, and hear the tale.”

Part the Fourth

I.

Two years ago, five hundred souls,
We sailed in the good ship “Anne,”
Some to trade, and many to dig.
And some under Fortune’s ban;
But all intent on the bright red gold.
That gladdens the heart of man.

II.