Page:Felicia Hemans in The New Monthly Magazine Volume 31 1831.pdf/3



Oh! wouldst thou seek a wounded bird from shelter to detain? Or wouldst thou call a spirit freed, to weary life again? Sweet sister! take the golden cross that I have worn so long, And bath'd with many a burning tear for secret woe and wrong! It could not still my beating heart—but may it be a sign Of Peace and Hope, my gentle one! when meekly press'd to thine!"

Take back, take back the cross of gold! our mother's gift to thee— It would but of this parting hour a bitter token be; With funeral splendour to mine eyes it would but sadly shine, And tell of early treasure lost, of joy no longer mine! Oh! sister! if thy heart be thus with voiceless grief oppress'd, Where couldst thou pour it forth so well as on my faithful breast?"

Urge me no more!—a blight hath fall'n upon mine alter'd years, I should but darken thy young life with sleepless pangs and fears! But take, at least, the lute I loved, and guard it for my sake, And sometimes from the silvery strings one tone of memory wake! Sing to those chords, in starlight hours, our own sweet Vesper-hymn, And think that I, too, chaunt it then, far in my cloister dim!"

Yes! I will take the silvery lute, and I will sing to thee A song we heard in childhood's days, ev'n from our father's knee! Oh! listen, listen! are those notes amidst forgotten things? Do they not linger, as in love, on the familiar strings? Seems not our sainted mother's voice to murmur in the strain? —Kind sister, gentlest Leonor! say, shall it plead in vain?"

SONG.

Oh sister! thou hast won me back!—too many fond thoughts lie In every soft, spring-breathing tone of that old melody! I cannot, cannot leave thee now! ev'n though my grief should fall As a shadow o'er the pageantries that crowd our ancient hall! But take me, clasp me to thine arms—I will not mourn my lot, Whilst love like thine remains on earth—I leave, I leave thee not!" F. H.