 | Sonnets, Lyrics and Translations |  |
18
THE FIR GROVE,
OR, THE FATAL FLASH.
Again the ripening crops begin to shineNear the dark firs, where Agnes dropp'd and died,
Struck in a moment from her lover's side,
At that gay banquet, with its songs and wine;
Well he remembers how the thunder broke
After the flash, that pierc'd their festal bower,
Where she lay prostrate in her hood and cloak,
Drawn round her, just to fend a summer-shower;
Well he remembers, later in the year,
How, when the pine-grove rang with questing hounds,
His soul reverted to those social sounds,
Dear Friendship's voice, and Love's, more wildly dear,
And how the Hunt seem'd like a drunken brawl
Crossing the silence of a funeral.
19
THE FIR GROVE Continued
THE AXE FORBIDDEN.
That belt of pines is dearer to his heart,Than all the busy interests of life;
Since, on that festal morn, he saw the dart
Of heaven descending on his plighted wife.
No axe comes there; the trees extend their shade;
His loving sorrow interdicts their fall,
And warns the woodman from the holy glade;
The death of Agnes has redeem'd them all!
Yon small white gate, deep-set in living green,
Through which she pass'd,—alas! without return,—
Though distant, oft in sunny gleams is seen;
Or when, before the rain, the sacred grove
Comes looming up, surcharg'd with death and love,
And bids the little gate stand forth and mourn!
| Sonnets, Lyrics and Translations | |