Page:Felicia Hemans in The Amulet 1829.pdf/7



Of truth, of grandeur, beauty, love, and hope, And melancholy fear subdued by faith. Wordsworth.

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 of fear and death.

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 chieftain's crested brow In its pride hath been struck down, Or a bright-haired virgin head laid low, Wearing its youth's first crown.