Page:Records of Woman.pdf/204

196

He-reck'd no more of glory—grief and shame Crush'd out his fiery nature, and his name Died silently. A shadow o'er his halls Crept year by year; the minstrel pass'd their walls; The warder's horn hung mute;—meantime the child, On whose first flowering thoughts no parent smiled, A gentle girl, and yet deep-hearted, grew Into sad youth; for well, too well, she knew Her mother's tale! Its memory made the sky Seem all too joyous for her shrinking eye; Check'd on her lip the flow of song, which fain Would there have linger'd; flush'd her cheek to pain, If met by sudden glance; and gave a tone Of sorrow, as for something lovely gone, Ev'n to the spring's glad voice. Her own was low, And plaintive—oh! there lie such depths of wo In a young blighted spirit! Manhood rears A haughty brow, and age has done with tears; But youth bows down to misery, in amaze At the dark cloud o'ermantling its fresh days,—