Madeline :: :: University of Virginia Library

Why was this blooming spray entwin'd
In fresh festoons of grace,
Around this inmost heart to wind
And all its love embrace?
O that upon my troubled head
Had come this mighty blow
That numbers her among the dead,
Thou Author of my woe!

ANTISTROPHE.

Link not another's fate to thine
Beyond the hour allowed,
Nor in thy troubled heart repine
Though low by sorrow bowed:
Look only in thy chamber lone
To emulate the grace
That led her to the heavenly throne,
The spirit's trysting-place.

219

STROPHE.

O that my loaded heart had sunk
At anchor on her breast;
That both the glacial stream had drunk
At Nature's poisoned feast;
That both the horn of bitterness
Had tasted to the lee,
In icy rapture's last caress
At liberty to flee!

ANTISTROPHE.

Vain man, thy fate to thus upbraid,
Can it be less than just?
What if thus low thou hadst been laid
And numbered with the dust!
Hadst thou been fit to take thy place
Before the judgment-seat,
Who thus devoid of heavenly grace
These ravings canst repeat?

STROPHE.

O that my body had been cast
Into the common grave;
Thee, O my soul, thy trial past,
I had not cared to save!

220

Can it be justice thus to rend
The ties of holy love;
Can I to this affliction bend,
And the harsh will approve?

ANTISTROPHE.

She was in heaven before she died,
Confess it in thy love.
She in her parting anguish cried:
I am with Him above!
Then, over her a look of grace
Stole like a ray of light;
A shadow only crossed thy face,
Succeeding like the night.

STROPHE.

Was it the will Divine to see
Her image in the child?
If thus fulfilled be his decree,
My soul be reconciled!
It was ordained for her to give
An infant being breath,
To wait and see the helpless live,
Then sink away in death!

221

ANTISTROPHE.

Few shun in life a rapid rise,
An empty rank to gain;
A vacant place in paradise
She suffered to obtain!
Thence keeps she watch on this abyss,
And guards thee with a shield,
Whilst thou art raving at the bliss
It was not thine to yield.

STROPHE.

O Mother Earth, be desolate,
All teeming Nature fail,
And hear the orphan's voice narrate
A father's bitter wail.
To tell, perchance, how the bereaved
Were taught to bear their lot;
The heart grief-stricken not aggrieved;
The lone deserted not!

ANTISTROPHE.

In bloody concert fools engage,
And struggle hand to hand;
But thou a sadder war shalt wage
On this unholy strand.

222

Then on the grave thy gauntlet cast;
With threats thy Maker greet;
And perish in the trumpet's blast,
Thy loved no more to meet!

STROPHE.

To take her in my arms and rise
To scenes of heavenly peace;
To be with her in paradise
Where human sorrows cease.
To meet my Maker face to face;
His holy service hear;
And at the fountain of His grace,
To wash away the tear.

EPODE.

What Heaven has planned, her means have blessed,
Herself takes charge of the distressed;
She for their trial earth began,
Where tribulation is for man.
She, more than all, a mourner loves,
For broken heart her pity moves.
He who best bears affliction's blow
Shall more and more the giver know,
To her resigned his tears shall cease,
And Nature envy him his peace.