Page:Hemans in Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine 24 1828.pdf/7

 For the voice which ne'er to mine replied But in kindly tones of cheer, For every spring of happiness My soul hath tasted here!

I bless thee for the last rich boon Won from affection tried, The right to gaze on Death with thee, To perish by thy side! And yet more for the glorious Hope Even to these moments given— Did not thy Spirit ever lift The trust of mine to Heaven?

Now be thou strong!—Oh! know we not Our path must lead to this? A shadow and a trembling still Were mingled with our bliss! We plighted our young hearts, when storms Were dark upon the sky, In full, deep knowledge of their task— To suffer and to die!

Be strong! I leave the living voice Of this, my martyr blood, With the thousand echoes of the hills, With the torrent's foaming flood,— A Spirit midst the leaves to dwell, A token on the air, To rouse the valiant from repose, The fainting from despair.

Hear it, and bear thou on, my Love! Aye, joyously endure! Our mountains must be altars yet, Inviolate and pure. There must our God be worshipp'd still With the worship of the Free— Farewell!—there's but one pang in Death, One only—leaving thee! F. H.