THE SUNBEAM. Thou art no lingerer in monarch's hall; A joy thou art and a wealth to all ! A bearer of hope unto land and sea : Sunbeam, what gift has the world like thee? Thou art walking the billows, and Ocean smiles ; Thou hast touch'd with glory his thousand isles, Thou hast lit up the ships and the feathery foam, And gladden'd the sailor like words from home. To the solemn depths of the forest shades Thou art streaming on thro' their green arcades, And the quir’ring leaves that have caught thy glow Like fire-flies glance to the pools below. I look'd on the mountains ; a vapour lay Folding their heights in its dark array: Thou brakest forth,—and the mist became A crown and a mantle of living flame. I look'd on the peasant's lowly cot; Something of sadness had wrapt the spot, But a gleam of thee on its lattice fell, And it laugh'd into beauty at that bright spell. To the earth's wild places a guest thou art, Flushing the waste like the rose's heart; And thou scornest not from thy pomp to shed A tender smile on the ruin's head. 76 THE MURDERED TRAVELLER. Thou tak’st through the dim church-aisle thy way, MRS. HEMANS. THE MURDERED TRAVELLER. When spring to woods and wastes around Brought bloom and joy again, Far down a narrow glen. Her tassels in the sky; And nodded careless by. His hanging nest o’erhead, THE MURDERED TRAVELLER. 77 And fearless near the fatal spot Her young the partridge led. And gentle eyes for him, Were sorrowful and dim. The fearful death he met, Unarm’d and hard beset ;- The Northern dawn was red, To banquet on the dead. They dress’d the hasty bier, Unmoisten’d by a tear. Within his distant home; For joy that he was come. His welcome step again, Far down that narrow glen. BRYANT. KING HENRY V. AND THE HERMIT OF DREUX. He pass’d unquestion’d through the camp, Their heads the soldiers bent In silent reverence, or begg'd A blessing, as he went; And so the Hermit pass'd along, And reach'd the royal tent. The map before him lay: To grace the future day. The intruder to behold; For the holy man was old ; And yet his eye was bold. “Repent thee, Henry, of the wrongs Which thou hast done this land ! The judgment is at hand. Beside the river Blaise ; Laid on my latter days ! KING HENRY V. AND THE HERMIT. 79 I used to see along the stream The white sail sailing down, That wafted food in better times To yonder peaceful town. Henry, I never now behold The white sail sailing down: Famine, Disease, and Death, and thou, Destroy the wretched town. I used to hear the traveller's voice, As here he pass'd along; Singing her even-song. In fear he hastens by ; In vain for succour cry. I used to see the youths row down, And watch the dripping oar, Came softep'd to the shore. I now see floating down; And leave this leaguer'd town.” “ I shall go on,” King Henry cried, And conquer this good land; |