Page:Hemans in Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine 28 1830.pdf/5



Now is their hearth a forsaken spot, The vine waves unpruned o'er their mountain-cot; Away, in that holy affection's might, The maiden is gone, like a breeze of the night;— She is gone forth alone, but her lighted face, Filling with soul every secret place, Hath a dower from heaven, and a gift of sway, To arouse brave hearts in its hidden way, Like the sudden flinging forth on high, Of a banner that startleth silently! She hath wander'd through many a hamlet-vale, Telling its children her brother's tale; And the strains, by his spirit pour'd away, Freely as fountains might shower their spray, From her fervent lip a new life have caught, And a power to kindle yet bolder thought; While sometimes a melody, all her own, Like a gush of tears in its plaintive tone, May be heard 'midst the lonely rocks to flow, Clear through the water-chimes—clear, yet low.