Page:Felicia Hemans in The New Monthly Magazine Volume 17 1826.pdf/13

 Her free thoughts flow'd.—She saw the pomp no more— The plumes, the banners!—to her cabin-door, And to the Fairy's fountain in the glade* , Where her young sisters by her side had play'd, And to her hamlet's chapel, where it rose Hallowing the forest unto deep repose, Her spirit turn'd. The very wood-note, sung In early spring-time by the bird which dwelt Where o'er her father's roof the beech-leaves hung, Was in her heart, a music heard and felt, Winning her back to Nature. She unbound The helm of many battles from her head, And, with her bright locks bow'd to sweep the ground, Lifting her voice up, wept for joy, and said,— "Bless me, my Father, bless me! and with thee, To the still cabin and the beechen tree, Let me return!"

Oh! never did thine eye Through the green haunts of happy infancy Wander again, Joanne! Too much of fame Had shed its radiance on thy peasant-name; And bought alone by gifts beyond all price, The trusting heart's repose, the Paradise Of home with all its loves, doth Fate allow The crown of glory unto woman's brow.