Page:Scenes and Hymns of Life.pdf/237

Rh

The Palm—the Vine—the Cedar—each hath power To bid fair Oriental shapes glance by, And each quick glistening of the Laurel bower Wafts Grecian images o'er fancy's eye. But thou, pale Olive!—in thy branches lie Far deeper spells than prophet-grove of old Might e'er enshrine:—I could not hear thee sigh To the wind's faintest whisper, nor behold One shiver of thy leaves' dim silvery green, Without high thoughts and solemn, of that scene When, in the garden, the Redeemer prayed— When pale stars looked upon his fainting head, And angels, minist'ring in silent dread, Trembled, perchance, within thy trembling shade.