 | Areytos or songs and ballads of the South |  |
137
THE CHRISTIAN WARRIOR.
The wing is down, that, when the day was dark,
Soar'd upward ere the lark;
The eye is dim, that, when a people slept,
True watch above them kept;
The soul is fled, that, with a holy blaze,
Warm'd all within its gaze;
The fearless form is blighted, which had stood,
Strong, battling like a god;
Firm against ancient error, and as true
In conflict with the new;
And hopes, that from his presence sprang elate,
Lie blasted, in his fate!
Soar'd upward ere the lark;
The eye is dim, that, when a people slept,
True watch above them kept;
The soul is fled, that, with a holy blaze,
Warm'd all within its gaze;
The fearless form is blighted, which had stood,
Strong, battling like a god;
Firm against ancient error, and as true
In conflict with the new;
And hopes, that from his presence sprang elate,
Lie blasted, in his fate!
Tears, that to all we give, however low,
Speak ill our sorrows now;
Fame, that belongs to rabble tongues, were vain,
And might his worth profane;
The monument is frail, the pageant dim—
What could they speak for him?
Prayers were more vain—the soul we honor thus
Might better plead for us:
Ascending high would be his holy pray'r,
While ours were lost in air!
Who shall requite the love he bore to man?
His God!—none other can!
Speak ill our sorrows now;
Fame, that belongs to rabble tongues, were vain,
And might his worth profane;
The monument is frail, the pageant dim—
What could they speak for him?
Prayers were more vain—the soul we honor thus
Might better plead for us:
Ascending high would be his holy pray'r,
While ours were lost in air!
Who shall requite the love he bore to man?
His God!—none other can!
| Areytos or songs and ballads of the South | |