 | Verses of a life time |  |
Scene 2d
—the Garden Mound—Sunset.ISADORE.
'T is done, and I am free—so is the oak
O'er which the storm with lightning wrath hath sped
16
The cold and midnight wave, that tosses on
Beneath a stormy sky—so is the star
When clouds are drifting round its lonely path,
And other stars are gone! O, father, father,
Take me to your kind arms—they will not sear
Nor scorch me with the drunkard's burning touch,
Nor shall I hear thy unpolluted lips
Pour forth the babblings of a reeling brain.
[Throws herself into her father's arms.
FATHER.
Heroic child! thine was a high resolve,
And followed up in nobleness of soul!
I knew thou wouldst not compromise with sin,
Nor give soft names to foul intemperance.
She hears me not—my Isadore—look up;
Thy father's arms are round thee, and he knows
Thy deep, deep woe. Alas, poor stricken flower,
Thou wert not made for this unkindly storm!
Thy cheek is pale, beloved, pale with grief;
Distended on thy marble brow and lids
(Too sad for tears) arise the struggling veins,
And thou dost start as if some fearful task
Oppress'd thee still.
Almighty! thou who know'st
The anguish'd throes with which the youthful hand
Cuts its own hopes, look down upon my child,
Comfort and bless her in this bitter hour!
And followed up in nobleness of soul!
I knew thou wouldst not compromise with sin,
Nor give soft names to foul intemperance.
She hears me not—my Isadore—look up;
Thy father's arms are round thee, and he knows
Thy deep, deep woe. Alas, poor stricken flower,
Thou wert not made for this unkindly storm!
Thy cheek is pale, beloved, pale with grief;
Distended on thy marble brow and lids
(Too sad for tears) arise the struggling veins,
And thou dost start as if some fearful task
Oppress'd thee still.
17
The anguish'd throes with which the youthful hand
Cuts its own hopes, look down upon my child,
Comfort and bless her in this bitter hour!
My prayer is heard; she rests, and to her lips
A smile, almost serene, has wing'd its way.
A smile, almost serene, has wing'd its way.
ISADORE
[in a low tone.]
Father, I've dream'd; and as my half-form'd thoughts
Came bruis'd and bleeding through my riven mind,
I seem'd to grope, where in the far gray depths
With waving robes, above a dark abyss,
I saw a shadowy form. It beckon'd me,
And eagerly I strove to reach its side,
Until I saw ‘Temptation’ on its brow
Inscribed. Then pray'd a voice, “Lead me not there!”
From my own heart it came distinct and calm.
Again I look'd, and there in golden hues,
While floated off the form in murky clouds,
Blazed the word Duty, and once more the voice
Stirr'd in my soften'd soul, “Those whom he loves
He chastens.”
| Verses of a life time | |