Page:Hemans in Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine 37 1835.pdf/2



upon the threshold stone Of mine ancestral hall; I hear my native river moan; I see the night o'er my old forests fall.

I look round on the darkening vale, That saw my childhood's plays: The low wind in its rising wail Hath a strange tone, a sound of other days.

But I must rule my swelling breast: A sign is in the sky; Bright o'er yon grey rock's eagle nest Shines forth a warning star—it bids me fly.

My father's sword is in my hand, His deep voice haunts mine ear; He tells me of the noble band, Whose lives have left a brooding glory here.

He bids their offspring guard from stain Their pure and lofty faith; And yield up all things, to maintain The cause, for which they girt themselves to death.

And I obey.—I leave their towers Unto the stranger's tread; Unto the creeping grass and flowers; Unto the fading pictures of the dead.

I leave their shields to slow decay, Their banners to the dust; I go, and only bear away Their old, majestic name,—a solemn trust!

I go up to the ancient hills, Where chains may never be, Where leap in joy the torrent rills, Where man may worship God, alone and free.

There shall an altar and a camp Impregnantly arise; There shall be lit a quenchless lamp, To shine, unwavering, through the open skies.

And song shall midst the rocks be heard, And fearless prayer ascend; While, thrilling to God's holy word, The mountain pines in adoration bend.

And there the burning heart no more Its deep thought shall suppress, But the long buried truth shall pour Free currents thence, amidst the wilderness.

Then fare thee well, my mother's bower, Farewell, my father's hearth; Perish, my home! where lawless power Hath rent the tie of love to native earth.

Perish! let deathlike silence fall Upon the lone abode: Spread fast, dark ivy, spread thy pall:— I go up to the mountains, with my God.