Page:The Forest Sanctuary.pdf/197

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Alas! the mother that him bare, If she had been in presence there, In his wan cheeks and sunburnt hair, She had not known her child.".

, pilgrim, rest!—thou'rt from the Syrian land, Thou 'rt from the wild and wondrous east, I know By the long-withered palm-branch in thy hand, And by the darkness of thy sunburnt brow. Alas! the bright, the beautiful, who part, So full of hope, for that for country's bourne! Alas! the weary and the chang'd in heart, And dimm'd in aspect, who like thee return!

Thou 'rt faint—stay, rest thee from thy toils at last, Through the high chesnuts lightly plays the breeze,