Page:Poems Sigourney 1827.pdf/164

164 And quick return it to the lingering bow,— Go thou in peace,—for God relieves our wo.— But if I cry 'beyond!—beyond thee there!'— Oh! thou my friend,—the bitter sentence spare."— —Yet ah! how sad the parting glance exprest The deep forebodings of each faithful breast. Even Nature sicken'd,—day her eye withdrew,— The humid evening shed a baleful dew,— The distant tempest from its cavern groan'd, Hoarse night birds shriek'd, the echoing forest moan'd, O'er the faint moon, wild clouds menacing flew, And round her pallid orb their circles drew, Till shrinking in her cell, she shunn'd to tread A path so darksome, and so full of dread.— —The guiltless exile sought the deepest shade Where tangled boughs a midnight covert made; On the damp earth his lonely couch he found, His silent lip in anguish prest the ground, His soul conflicting, wounded, and opprest, Sought for that home where all the weary rest, Yet to its Maker's throne preferr'd its prayer, Reveal'd its wrongs, its dangers and its care.— —But now the clarion's tone invites a crowd, From the high temple to the palace proud, From victim's blood on reeking altar shed, To flowing wine, and pompous feast they fled.— Yet in the scene which pleasure seem'd to sway Amid that throng so mirthful and so gay, One heart was wrung, with friendship's deep despair, And one distorted with unpitied care,— And still the monarch's restless glance explored The passing nobles, and the festive board,