 | The Two Brothers, and other poems |  |
Musing still his past, the captive on his watch nor slept nor stirr'd,
And the dawn drew on unheeded, and the cock crew thrice unheard.
Of the sentinels of morning, shining over Abarim,
Only one was left, the day-star; and its lamp was growing dim.
Hark! the bolt is drawn, how slowly: see! the dungeon door flung wide:
Weapons gleam along the passage: armed men are by his side.
In their looks he read his sentence, and he knew his hour was come,
And his proud neck meekly offer'd to the stroke of martyrdom:
And, as flash'd the headsman's broadsword, rose the sun on Pisgah's height;
And the morning star was hidden in the flood of golden light.
And the dawn drew on unheeded, and the cock crew thrice unheard.
Of the sentinels of morning, shining over Abarim,
Only one was left, the day-star; and its lamp was growing dim.
Hark! the bolt is drawn, how slowly: see! the dungeon door flung wide:
Weapons gleam along the passage: armed men are by his side.
In their looks he read his sentence, and he knew his hour was come,
And his proud neck meekly offer'd to the stroke of martyrdom:
And, as flash'd the headsman's broadsword, rose the sun on Pisgah's height;
And the morning star was hidden in the flood of golden light.
| The Two Brothers, and other poems | |