 | Young Arthur |  |
HUBERT AND ELLEN.
Who sits so pensive in yon lonely cot,
O'er the low embers, while the moon's pale light
Gleams through the casement, picturing the lot
Of human joy, and mortals' shadow'd sight?
'Tis Ellen—Hubert from his home is gone,
And other inmate the sad cot has none.
O'er the low embers, while the moon's pale light
Gleams through the casement, picturing the lot
Of human joy, and mortals' shadow'd sight?
'Tis Ellen—Hubert from his home is gone,
And other inmate the sad cot has none.
Who o'er yon mountain bends his weary way
With eager step, and anxious care oppress'd;
His ear still turning to each rustling spray,
His eye to every opening view address'd?
'Tis honest Hubert, grieving as he goes,
Seeking a wand'rer from his cot, repose.
With eager step, and anxious care oppress'd;
His ear still turning to each rustling spray,
His eye to every opening view address'd?
'Tis honest Hubert, grieving as he goes,
Seeking a wand'rer from his cot, repose.
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Mark an old man through yonder valley wind,
Propp'd by his staff, and bending on his way;
His shoulders wearied with a load behind,
His heart which lighten'd in a happier day;
O, 'tis the sage; and whither does he go?
To seek the author of his weary woe.
Propp'd by his staff, and bending on his way;
His shoulders wearied with a load behind,
His heart which lighten'd in a happier day;
O, 'tis the sage; and whither does he go?
To seek the author of his weary woe.
And where is Arthur? Arthur 'tis they seek;
Arthur whom manhood bless'd with ev'ry grace;
Arthur has left them, and their sorrows speak
For hope's faint dove no hallow'd resting place.
And where is Arthur, pleasure of the plain,
Has that mysterious parent 'snar'd him hence?
Awhile the enigma must conceal'd remain,
And hope, resign'd, must linger with suspence.
For Hubert back to Ellen has return'd,
And, as the embers, Ellen's hopes expire,
No trace discover'd, and no tiding learn'd,
They wait the coming of that woe-worn sire;
But he his harp upon his back had thrown,
Proof his return had settled limit none.
Arthur whom manhood bless'd with ev'ry grace;
Arthur has left them, and their sorrows speak
For hope's faint dove no hallow'd resting place.
And where is Arthur, pleasure of the plain,
Has that mysterious parent 'snar'd him hence?
Awhile the enigma must conceal'd remain,
And hope, resign'd, must linger with suspence.
For Hubert back to Ellen has return'd,
And, as the embers, Ellen's hopes expire,
No trace discover'd, and no tiding learn'd,
They wait the coming of that woe-worn sire;
But he his harp upon his back had thrown,
Proof his return had settled limit none.
And many a year has pass'd away,
No Arthur they behold;
Nor long upon the yearly day,
Has mystery left the gold.
And many a year they've number'd o'er,
But ah! that sage return'd no more.
No Arthur they behold;
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Has mystery left the gold.
And many a year they've number'd o'er,
But ah! that sage return'd no more.
| Young Arthur | |