Page:Felicia Hemans in The Monthly Magazine Volume 2 1826.pdf/8



hills all glowed with a festive light, For the royal city rejoiced by night: There were lamps hung forth upon tower and tree— Banners were lifted and streaming free; Every tall pillar was wreathed with fire— Like a shooting meteor was every spire; And the outline of many a dome on high Was traced, as in stars, on the clear dark sky.

I passed through the streets; there were throngs on throngs— Like sounds of the deep were their mingled songs; There was music forth from each palace borne— A peal of the cymbal, the harp, and horn; The forests heard it, the mountains rang, The hamlets woke to its haughty clang; Rich and victorious was every tone, Telling the land of her foes o'erthrown.

Didst thou meet not a mourner for all the slain? Thousands lie dead on their battle-plain! Gallant and true were the hearts that fell— Grief in the homes they have left must dwell; Grief o'er the features of childhood spread, And bowing the beauty of woman's head: Didst thou hear, 'midst the songs, not one tender moan, For the many brave to their slumber gone?

I saw not the face of a weeper there— Too strong, perchance, was the bright lamp's glare! I heard not a wail 'midst the joyous crowd— The music of victory was all too loud! Mighty it rolled on the winds afar, Shaking the streets like a conqueror's car; Through torches and streams its floods swept by— How could I listen for moan or sigh?

Turn then away from life's pageants! turn, If its deep story thy heart would learn: Ever too bright is that outward shew, Dazzling the eyes till they see not woe! But lift the proud mantle which hides from thy view The things thou shouldst gaze on, the sad and true; Nor fear to survey what its folds conceal: So must thy spirit be taught to feel! F. H.