And then came on the frost and snow,
All on the road from Moscow.
The wind and the weather he found, in that hour, Cared nothing for him, nor for all his power; For him who, while Europe crouched under his rod, Put his trust in his Fortune, and not in his God. Worse and worse every day the elements grew, The fields were so white and the sky so blue, Sacrebleu! Ventrebleu!
What a horrible journey from Moscow!
110. HISTORY OF JOHN DAY.-Thomas Hood.
But still he stoutly urged his suit,
With vows, and sighs and tears, Yet could not pierce her heart, although He drove the "Dart" for years.
In vain he wooed-in vain he sued,― The maid was cold and proud, And sent him off to Coventry While on the way to Stroud.
He fretted all the way to Stroud, And thence all back to town; The course of love was never smooth, So his went up and down.
At last, her coldness made him pine To merely bones and skin; But still he loved like one resolved To love through thick and thin.
“Oh, Mary! view my wasted back, And see my dwindled calf! Though I have never had a wife, I've lost my better half!"
Alas! in vain he still assailed, Her heart withstood the dint; Though he had carried sixteen stone, He could not move a flint!
Worn out, at last he made a vow, To break his being's link, For he was so reduced in size, At nothing he could shrink.
Now, some will talk in water's praise, And waste a deal of breath;
But John, though he drank nothing else, He drank himself to death.
The cruel maid, that caused his love, Found out the fatal close,
For looking in the butt she saw
The butt end of his woes.
228. Pathos requires concrete tones (§ 87) and semitonic melody (§ 89), effusive, sustained force (§ 109), a frequent use of tremulous stress (§ 105), and pure (§ 131) or orotund (§ 135) quality.
113. THE LEPER.-N. P. Willis.
"Room for the leper! Room!" And as he came The cry passed on,-"Room for the leper! Room!" * * * And aside they stood,
Matron, and child, and pitiless manhood—all Who met him on his way,- and let him pass. And onward through the open gate he came, A leper with the ashes on his brow, Sackcloth about his loins, and on his lip A covering, stepping painfully and slow, And with a difficult utterance, like one Whose heart is with an iron nerve put down, Crying, "Unclean! - Unclean!
* * * Day was breaking
When at the altar of the temple stood
The holy priest of God. The incense-lamp
Burned with a struggling light, and a low chant Swelled through the hollow arches of the roof Like an articulate wail, and there, alone, Wasted to ghastly thinness, Helon knelt.
The echoes of the melancholy strain
Died in the distant aisles, and he rose up,
Struggling with weakness, and bowed down his head
Unto the sprinkled ashes, and put off
His costly raiment for the leper's garb,
And with the sackcloth round him, and his lip
Hid in a loathsome covering, stood still Waiting to hear his doom:
"Depart! depart, O child
Of Israel, from the temple of thy God, For he has smote thee with his chastening rod, And to the desert wild,
From all thou lov'st, away thy feet must flee, That from thy plague his people may be free.
"Depart! and come not near
The busy mart, the crowded city, more, Nor set thy foot a human threshold o'er; And stay thou not to hear
Voices that call thee in the way, and fly From all who in the wilderness pass by.
'Wet not thy burning lip
In streams that to a human dwelling glide, Nor rest thee where the covert fountains hide, Nor kneel thee down to dip
The water where the pilgrim bends to drink, By desert well, or river's grassy brink.
"And pass not thou between
The weary traveler and the cooling breeze, And lie not down to sleep beneath the trees Where human tracks are seen;
Nor milk the goat that browseth on the plain, Nor pluck the standing corn, or yellow grain.
"And now depart! and when
Thy heart is heavy, and thine eyes are dim, Lift up thy prayer beseechingly to him Who from the tribes of men
Selected thee to feel his chastening rod. Depart, O leper! and forget not God!"
And he went forth,-alone! not one of all The many whom he loved, nor she whose name Was woven in the fibers of the heart
Breaking within him now, to come and speak Comfort unto him. Yea, he went his way, Sick and heart-broken, and alone,― to die! For God had cursed the leper!
And Helon knelt beside a stagnant pool In the lone wilderness, and bathed his brow, Hot with the burning leprosy, and touched
The loathsome water to his fevered lips, Praying that he might be so blest,- to die! Footsteps approached, and with no strength to flee, He drew the covering closer on his lip,
Crying, "Unclean! Unclean!" and in the folds Of the coarse sackcloth shrouding up his face, He fell upon the earth till they should pass. Nearer the stranger came, and bending o'er The leper's prostrate form pronounced his name. "Helon!"-the voice was like the master-tone Of a rich instrument,- most strangely sweet; And the dull pulses of disease awoke, And for a moment beat beneath the hot And leprous scales with a restoring thrill. "Helon! arise!" and he forgot his curse, And rose and stood before him.
Mingled in the regard of Helon's eye As he beheld the stranger. He was not In costly raiment clad, nor on his brow The symbol of a princely lineage wore; No followers at his back, nor in his hand Buckler, or sword, or spear,— yet in his mien Command sat throned serene, and if he smiled, A kingly condescension graced his lips
The lion would have crouched to in his lair. His garb was simple, and his sandals worn; His stature modeled with a perfect grace; His countenance, the impress of a God, Touched with the open innocence of a child; His eye was blue and calm, as is the sky In the serenest noon; his hair unshorn Fell to his shoulders, and his curling beard The fullness of perfected manhood bore. He looked on Helon earnestly awhile,
As if his heart was moved, and, stooping down,
He took a little water in his hand
And laid it on his brow, and said, "Be clean!" And lo! the scales fell from him, and his blood Coursed with delicious coolness through his veins,
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