Viewing page 123 of 309

This transcription has been completed. Contact us with corrections.

216   ELIZABETH MARGARET CHANDLER.

Nor deem thy can purchase his—he cannot 'scape our wrath,
For many a warrior's watchful eye is placed o'er every path.

"But thou mayest win his broad estates to grace thine infant heir,
And life and honour to thyself, to thou his haunts declare." 
She laid her hand upon her heart; her eye flash'd proud and clear, 
And firmer grew her haughty tread;—"My lord is hidden here!

"And if ye seek to view his form, ye must tear away, 
From round his secret dwelling-place these walls of living clay!"
They quail'd beneath her haughty glance, they silent turned aside,
And left her all unharmed amidst her loveliness and pride!

THE CHINESE SON.

The following lines were suggested by reading a narrative of a Chinese youth, whose mother felt another great alarm during the prevalence of a thunder-storm, and whose filial affection always prompted him to be present with his mother on such occasions, and even after her death to visit and remain at her grave, during their continuance.

I come to thee, my mother! the black sky 
Is swollen with its thunder, and the air 
Seems palpable with darkness, save when high, 
The lurid lightning streams a ruddy glare 
Across the heavens, rousing from their lair 
The deep-voiced thunders! how the mounting storm 
Strides o'er the firmament! yet I can dare 
Its fiercest terrors, mother, that my arm 
May wind its shields of love around thy sleeping form.

What uproar! raging winds, and smiting hail, 
The lightning's blaze, and deaf'ning thunder's crash, 


217   ELIZABETH MARGARET CHANDLER.  

Let loose at once for havoc! I should quail 
Before the terrors of the forked flash, 
Did not the thought of triumphant dash 
All selfish fears aside, and bid me fly 
To kneel beside thy grave; the rain-drops plash 
Heavily round thee from the rifted sky; 
Yet I am here, fear not—beside thy couch I lie.

Thou canst not hear me— the storm brings not now 
One terror to thy bosom—yet 'tis sweet 
To call to mind the smile, wherewith thy brow 
Was wont in by-gone days my step to greet, 
When o'er the earth the summer tempest beat,
And the loosed thunder shook the heavens—but when 
Was there a look of mine that did not meet 
A smile of love from thee? the world of men 
A friend, like thou hast been, will never yield again.

Oh! mother, mother, how could love like thine 
Pass from the earth away! on other eyes,
The glances of maternal love will shine,
And still on other hearts the blessing lies.
That made mine blissful; yet far less they prize
That boon of happiness—and in their glee,
Around their spirits gather many ties
Of joy and tenderness—but all to me
That made the earth seem bright, is spulchred with thee

They sometimes strive to lead me to the halls
Where wine and mirth the fleeting moments wing,
But on my clouded spirit sadness falls
More darkly then, than when the cave-glooms fling
Their shadows round me, and the night-winds sing
Through the torn rocks their melancholy dirge,
Or when as now the echoing thunder rings
O'er the wide heavens, and the mad gales urge
Unto an answering cry, the overmastering surge.
19

Transcription Notes:
---------- Reopened for Editing 2023-06-29 10:07:55