THE THEMES OF SONG.
“Of truth, of grandeur, beanty, love, and hope,
And melancholy fear subdued by faith.”
Wordsworth.
Where shall the minstrel find a theme?
—Where'er, for freedom shed,
Brave blood hath dyed some ancient stream,
Amidst the mountains, red,
Where'er a rock, a fount, a grove,
Bears record to the faith
Of love—deep, holy, fervent love,
Victor o'er fear and death.
Where'er a chieftain's crested brow
Too soon hath been struck down,
Or a bright virgin head laid low,
Wearing its youth's first crown.
Where'er a spire points up to heaven,
Through storm and summer air,
Telling, that all around have striven
Man's heart, and hope, and prayer.
Where'er a blessed home hath been,
That now is home no more:
A place of ivy, darkly green,
Where laughter's light is o'er.
Where'er, by some forsaken grave,
Some nameless greensward heap,
A bird may sing, a wild-flower wave,
A star its vigil keep.
Or where a yearning heart of old,
A dream of shepherd men,
With forms of more than earthly mould
Hath peopled grot or glen.
There may the bard's high themes be found—
We die, we pass away;
But faith, love, pity—these are bound
To earth without decay.
The heart that burns, the cheek that glows,
The tear from hidden springs,
The thorn and glory of the rose—
These are undying things.
Wave after wave of mighty stream
To the deep sea hath gone:
Yet not the less, like youth's bright dream,
The exhaustless flood rolls on.
