 | The lost pleiad ; and other poems |  |
15
THE GEORGIAN CAPTIVE.
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[The following poem is intended to represent the wonderful resignation of a beautiful Virgin of Georgia, who, rather than submit to be taken to Constantinople by the Turks, died by her own hands.]
I cannot leave the vine
Whereon the purpling clusters oft have hung,
Nor suffer this fond heart of mine
To bear the burden of the slave so young!
And still it would not grieve me to depart,
But for these yearnings of my breaking heart!
Whereon the purpling clusters oft have hung,
Nor suffer this fond heart of mine
To bear the burden of the slave so young!
And still it would not grieve me to depart,
But for these yearnings of my breaking heart!
And then, you know, yon sky
Beheld that promise to my mother given;
And now Jerusia cannot lie;
For then her spirit would come down from Heaven,
And here remind me of that sacred vow
Which promised to be like that sky is now!
Beheld that promise to my mother given;
And now Jerusia cannot lie;
For then her spirit would come down from Heaven,
And here remind me of that sacred vow
Which promised to be like that sky is now!
Oh! God! that it must be—
That this poor, broken-hearted thing must go,
And never more return to see
The dear young flowers that she has tended so;
And leave her parents where the young grass waves
In such wild beauty over their sweet graves!
That this poor, broken-hearted thing must go,
And never more return to see
The dear young flowers that she has tended so;
And leave her parents where the young grass waves
In such wild beauty over their sweet graves!
The bird that leaves her nest
To scan the azure fields of Heaven, is free;
And finds, wherever she may rest,
A happy home—but there is none for me!
I see two little starlights in the sky,
And they shall be the lamps to lead me by!
To scan the azure fields of Heaven, is free;
And finds, wherever she may rest,
A happy home—but there is none for me!
I see two little starlights in the sky,
And they shall be the lamps to lead me by!
How hard it is to be
So fatherless, away from my dear home,
Where, with the music of the sea,
The fragrance of the south winds used to come!
Lord! strengthen me from out the mighty Past,
To yield my soul unsullied to the last!
So fatherless, away from my dear home,
Where, with the music of the sea,
The fragrance of the south winds used to come!
Lord! strengthen me from out the mighty Past,
To yield my soul unsullied to the last!
Let not the mighty soul,
The only living thing that cannot die,
Be fettered, while the thunders roll
To tell its freedom to the stars on high;
But on the wings of Death rise forth to Thee,
And show the world how Virtue can be free!
The only living thing that cannot die,
Be fettered, while the thunders roll
To tell its freedom to the stars on high;
But on the wings of Death rise forth to Thee,
And show the world how Virtue can be free!
Philadelphia, Dec. 18th, 1837.
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