Page:Hemans in Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine 32 1832.pdf/11

 To Heaven! my guide to Heaven, My noble, and my blessed! Oh! look up, Be strong, rejoice, my Herbert! But for thee, How could my spirit have sprung up to God, Through the dark cloud which o'er its vision hung, The night of fear and error? thy dear hand First raised that veil, and show'd the glorious world My heritage beyond—Friend! Love and Friend! —It was as if thou gavest me mine own soul In those bright days! Yes! a new earth and heaven, And a new sense for all their splendours born, These were thy gifts! and shall I not rejoice To die, upholding their immortal worth, Ev'n for thy sake? Yes, fill'd with nobler life By thy pure love, made holy to the truth, Lay me upon the altar of thy God, The first fruits of thy ministry below; Thy work, thine own! My love, my sainted love! Oh! I can almost yield thee unto heaven; Earth would but sully thee! Thou must depart, With the rich crown of thy celestial gifts Untainted by a breath! And yet, alas! Edith! what dreams of holy happiness, Even for this world, were ours! the low, sweet home, —The pastoral dwelling, with its ivyed porch, And lattice gleaming through the leaves—and thou, My life's companion!—Thou, beside my hearth, Sitting with thy meek eyes, or greeting me Back from brief absence with thy bounding step, In the green meadow-path, or by my side Kneeling, thy calm uplifted face to mine, In the sweet hush of prayer! and now—oh! now— —How have we loved—how fervently, how long! And this to be the close! Oh! bear me up Against the unutterable tenderness Of earthly love, my God! in the sick hour Of dying human hope, forsake me not! Herbert, my Herbert! even from that sweet home Where it had been too much of Paradise To dwell with thee—even thence th' oppressor's hand Might soon have torn us:—or the touch of death Might one day there have left a widow'd heart, Pining alone. We will go hence, Beloved! To the bright country, where the wicked cease From troubling, where the spoiler hath no sway; Where no harsh voice of worldliness disturbs The Sabbath-peace of love. We will go hence, Together with our wedded souls, to Heaven: No solitary lingering, no cold void, No dying of the heart! Our lives have been Lovely through faithful love, and in our deaths We will not be divided. Oh! the peace Of God is lying far within thine eyes, Far underneath the mist of human tears, Lighting those blue still depths, and sinking thence On my worn heart. Now am I girt with strength, Now I can bless thee, my true bride for Heaven! And let me bless thee, Herbert! in this hour Let my soul bless thee with prevailing might!