The Knight and The Enchantress | ||
123
LINES FROM “THE CIRCASSIAN;” AN UNPUBLISHED POEM.
Lo! the lightning-limbed Antelope leaps o'er the plain,
His footsteps are light, quick, and noiseless as rain;
And graceful and free as the laugh of a child,
Are his glad, buoyant movements, all wanton and wild.
His footsteps are light, quick, and noiseless as rain;
And graceful and free as the laugh of a child,
Are his glad, buoyant movements, all wanton and wild.
So leaped and so bounded the heart of my youth,
All fearless with gladness—all glowing with truth;
But the thorns o'er its track scattered frequent and thick,
Have wounded it even to the core and the quick.
All fearless with gladness—all glowing with truth;
But the thorns o'er its track scattered frequent and thick,
Have wounded it even to the core and the quick.
The lightning-limbed Antelope still scours the plain,
But my heart and my footstep both know the dull chain.
Oh! where shall I turn, or for solace or aid?
My freedom is lost, and my hope is betrayed!
But my heart and my footstep both know the dull chain.
124
My freedom is lost, and my hope is betrayed!
Ye past hours of delight! ye glad golden-winged hours!
When I fostered my birds, and I tended my flowers;
When Hope's living star shone supreme in the skies,
And but set—if it set—e'en still lovelier to rise.
When I fostered my birds, and I tended my flowers;
When Hope's living star shone supreme in the skies,
And but set—if it set—e'en still lovelier to rise.
Lo! the lightning-limbed Antelope bounds o'er the plain,
With nought to impede him—with nought to restrain:
Unwearied, untrembling—free, fearless, and lone;
With the Desert, the Fountains, the Sunshine its own.
With nought to impede him—with nought to restrain:
Unwearied, untrembling—free, fearless, and lone;
With the Desert, the Fountains, the Sunshine its own.
Ah! the desert, and all its dim haunts still are mine;
But the sunbeams no more o'er my pathway may shine;
But the fountains—the fountains for ever are lost;—
Soonest hidden from those who could prize them the most.
But the sunbeams no more o'er my pathway may shine;
But the fountains—the fountains for ever are lost;—
Soonest hidden from those who could prize them the most.
The Knight and The Enchantress | ||