 | The forest minstrel |  |
MARAH.
It was a fountain clear and deep,
And grateful to the view;
Yet on its brink no fragrant shrubs
Or balmy blossoms grew.
And grateful to the view;
Yet on its brink no fragrant shrubs
Or balmy blossoms grew.
A few rank weeds, with thorny stems,
Were darkly tangled there,
And threw their rank and baleful breath
On summer's sultry air.
Were darkly tangled there,
And threw their rank and baleful breath
On summer's sultry air.
The weary bird, with trembling wing,
Alighted on the brink,
Just dipped her beak, wailed mournfully,
And died; she could not drink.
Alighted on the brink,
Just dipped her beak, wailed mournfully,
And died; she could not drink.
188
The thirsty traveller's burning gaze
Upon that fountain fell,
And gratefully he bent his knees
Beside the limpid well,
Upon that fountain fell,
And gratefully he bent his knees
Beside the limpid well,
And stooped to drink—ha, bitterness!
How nauscous was the taste,
He cursed the spring, and turned away,
To perish on the waste.
How nauscous was the taste,
He cursed the spring, and turned away,
To perish on the waste.
Yet was that fountain clear and cool,
And tempting to the sight;
And mirrored in its bosom lay
Heaven's own effulgent light.
And tempting to the sight;
And mirrored in its bosom lay
Heaven's own effulgent light.
And murmuring forth a restless song,
Its waters gushed away,
And held a fitful wandering course,
Like some glad child at play.
Its waters gushed away,
And held a fitful wandering course,
Like some glad child at play.
But all along its winding course
The earth was bare and dry,
And shining fish, from other streams,
But touched those waves—to die.
The earth was bare and dry,
And shining fish, from other streams,
But touched those waves—to die.
A prophet of the mighty God
Unto that fountain came,
Threw into it a curse of salt,
And blessed it in God's name.
Unto that fountain came,
Threw into it a curse of salt,
And blessed it in God's name.
Oh, what a change! That bitter well
Was filled with life and health,
And sweet and pure its waters flowed,
A living stream of wealth.
Was filled with life and health,
And sweet and pure its waters flowed,
A living stream of wealth.
189
Soon clustering verdure crowned the banks,
And on the balmy air
Rich roses blended their perfume
With breath of lilies fair;
And on the balmy air
Rich roses blended their perfume
With breath of lilies fair;
And luscious fruits and clustered vines,
Grew up amongst the flowers;
And many a joyous bright-winged bird,
Was nestling in the bowers.
Grew up amongst the flowers;
And many a joyous bright-winged bird,
Was nestling in the bowers.
And there the pilgrim paused at noon,
His burning brow to lave,
Allayed his thirst, refreshed his soul,
And blessed the healthful wave.
His burning brow to lave,
Allayed his thirst, refreshed his soul,
And blessed the healthful wave.
The human heart is such a spring,
So bitter at its source,
And thus its stream diffuses death
Along its poisonous course.
So bitter at its source,
And thus its stream diffuses death
Along its poisonous course.
And while the bitter waters gush
In streams of sin and wo,
We know the fountain is not healed
From which such waters flow.
In streams of sin and wo,
We know the fountain is not healed
From which such waters flow.
But touched by Grace, how pure and sweet
The living waters spring,
And make along life's barren way
The sweetest verdure spring.
The living waters spring,
And make along life's barren way
The sweetest verdure spring.
All pure and gentle charities,
That bless the fireside home,
Awake in beauty, life, and joy,
Where'er its waters come.
That bless the fireside home,
Awake in beauty, life, and joy,
Where'er its waters come.
| The forest minstrel | |