 | Hagar |  |
111
THE MARTYR STUDENT.
J. P. Purvis, 1851.
Through the silent hours of midnight
In his chamber still and lone,
Sat a weary student bending
O'er a dark and ancient tome.
In his chamber still and lone,
Sat a weary student bending
O'er a dark and ancient tome.
Little heeded he the hours
Slowly gliding on their way,
Until faintly thro' the window
Stole the dim gray light of day.
Slowly gliding on their way,
Until faintly thro' the window
Stole the dim gray light of day.
Look upon that brow so youthful
Scarce a sign of toil is there,
Not a wrinkle on his forehead
Furrowed by the touch of care.
Scarce a sign of toil is there,
Not a wrinkle on his forehead
Furrowed by the touch of care.
Yet a darker shade is resting
On that noble earnest face,
On his brow he wears the impress
Of a scorned and hated race.
On that noble earnest face,
On his brow he wears the impress
Of a scorned and hated race.
Bravely too the student bears it,
Quick returning scorn for scorn,
Well he knows the free brave spirit
To no servile lot was born.
Quick returning scorn for scorn,
Well he knows the free brave spirit
To no servile lot was born.
But along the northern border
He hath heard despairingly
Rise the cry of hunted bondsman
Striving from his chains to flee.
He hath heard despairingly
Rise the cry of hunted bondsman
Striving from his chains to flee.
112
Brave the heart within his bosom,
Yet it throbs with pity too,
Full of feeling, gentle, loving,
Warm, affectionate and true.
Yet it throbs with pity too,
Full of feeling, gentle, loving,
Warm, affectionate and true.
He is young and single handed,
But all eager for the field,
Can he buckle on no weapon
For the truth and right to wield?
But all eager for the field,
Can he buckle on no weapon
For the truth and right to wield?
He is young, great souls are older,
He would follow in the van,
Tho' he's seen but fourteen summers
Yet he feels in soul a man!
He would follow in the van,
Tho' he's seen but fourteen summers
Yet he feels in soul a man!
Well he knows, a germ within him,
Latent lies for good or ill;
To direct that germ he labors,
With a strong and iron will.
Latent lies for good or ill;
To direct that germ he labors,
With a strong and iron will.
While the midnight stars are burning
Like his visions high and pure,
He is learning well life's lesson
To be patient and endure.
Like his visions high and pure,
He is learning well life's lesson
To be patient and endure.
What bright dreams of future greatness
Dawn upon his longing eyes;
While the dark and misty present
Fades away 'neath sunnier skies.
Dawn upon his longing eyes;
While the dark and misty present
Fades away 'neath sunnier skies.
“I will live to toil unceasing,”
Thus his midnight thoughts take tone—
“For a noble, earnest purpose
I will labor late and lone.
Thus his midnight thoughts take tone—
“For a noble, earnest purpose
I will labor late and lone.
113
I will live to show the master
Of the poor, down trodden slave,
That a soul dwells in the bondsman,
He has hunted to the grave.
Of the poor, down trodden slave,
That a soul dwells in the bondsman,
He has hunted to the grave.
I will live to teach the scorner
Of a skin unlike his own,
That 'tis mind that makes the true man,
God-like mind, and Mind alone.
Of a skin unlike his own,
That 'tis mind that makes the true man,
God-like mind, and Mind alone.
Well I know that I have chosen
No smooth, velvet path of ease,
That my way in summer's noontide
Lieth not 'neath shade of trees
No smooth, velvet path of ease,
That my way in summer's noontide
Lieth not 'neath shade of trees
I must learn to toil and suffer
In the spring-time of my life,
Though I bear aloft no banner
On the glorious fields of strife.
In the spring-time of my life,
Though I bear aloft no banner
On the glorious fields of strife.
Calm and deep the water glideth,
Where the earnest seeker turns,
To glean purest ores of knowledge;
While his soul with ardor burns.
Where the earnest seeker turns,
To glean purest ores of knowledge;
While his soul with ardor burns.
Not alone I'll strive to garner
Golden grains from out the ore,
Poor indeed is he, who only
Feels possessed of earthly lore.
Golden grains from out the ore,
Poor indeed is he, who only
Feels possessed of earthly lore.
I will teach my soul to harbor
No vain thoughts of worldly gain,
Pure shall be my true ambition
Pure and lofty is my aim.”
No vain thoughts of worldly gain,
Pure shall be my true ambition
Pure and lofty is my aim.”
114
Now the morning stars are paling,
Faintly steals the light of day;
Through the curtains of his chamber,
While the shadows flee away.
Faintly steals the light of day;
Through the curtains of his chamber,
While the shadows flee away.
'Twas a bright and balmy evening
In the pleasant days of spring,
Breezes thro' the open casement,
Fragrance from the flowers bring.
In the pleasant days of spring,
Breezes thro' the open casement,
Fragrance from the flowers bring.
Hushed and still the saddened chamber,
Where the dying student lay;
Withering the buds of promise,
Yet unfolded to the day.
Where the dying student lay;
Withering the buds of promise,
Yet unfolded to the day.
Weeks and months have seen him suffer,
Lying in the darkened room,
Yet his bright and hopeful spirit
Half dispelled the deepening gloom.
Lying in the darkened room,
Yet his bright and hopeful spirit
Half dispelled the deepening gloom.
Weary, worn at length no longer
Can the fainting spirit live;
“Must I suffer? I am weary,
O what rest the grave would give.
Can the fainting spirit live;
“Must I suffer? I am weary,
O what rest the grave would give.
“Yet,” he said, “the fields of labor,
Stubble still before me lie,
I have scarcely struck a furrow,
I am all too young to die.”
Stubble still before me lie,
I have scarcely struck a furrow,
I am all too young to die.”
While the golden fires of sunset
Faded in the glowing west,
Sank the pale and weary sufferer
To his last unbroken rest.
Faded in the glowing west,
Sank the pale and weary sufferer
To his last unbroken rest.
115
'Neath the mound upon the hill-side
Quietly he sleepeth now,
Dust is resting on the beauty
Of that high and noble brow.
Quietly he sleepeth now,
Dust is resting on the beauty
Of that high and noble brow.
For the midnight's lonely vigils,
For the student's holy dream,
For the brave soul martyr dying
No proud monument is seen.
For the student's holy dream,
For the brave soul martyr dying
No proud monument is seen.
Still within the hearts that watched him,
Hour by hour and day by day,
Like some holy thought he'll linger
Nevermore to pass away.
Hour by hour and day by day,
Like some holy thought he'll linger
Nevermore to pass away.
| Hagar | |