It was the holy twilight hour, and clouds in crimson pride
Sailed through the golden firmament, in the calm evening-tide;
The peasant's cheerful song was hushed by every hill and glen,
The city's voice stole faintly out, and died the hum of men:
And as night's sombre shades came down o'er day's resplendent eye,
A faded face, from a prison cell, gazed out upon the sky;
For to that face the glad bright sun of earth for aye had set,
And the last time had come to mark eve's starry coronet!
Oh, who can paint the bitter thoughts that o'er her spirit stole,
As her pale lips gave utterance to feeling's deep control;
While, shadowed from life's vista back, thronged mid her falling tears
The fantasies of early hope, dreams of departed years:
When pleasure's light was sprinkled, and silver voices flung
Their rich and echoing cadences her virgin hours among;
When there came no shadow on her brow, no tear to dim her eye,
When there frown'd no cloud of sorrow in her being's festal sky.
Perchance at that lone hour the thought of early visions came,
Of the trance that touched her lip with song, at love's mysterious flame;
When she listened to the low-breathed tones of him the idol One,
Who shone in her imagining, first ray of pleasure's sun:
Perchance the walk in evening hours—the impassioned kiss or vow,
The warm tear on the kindling cheek, the smile upon the brow:
But they came like flowers that wither, and the light of all had fled,
As a hue from April's pinion, o'er earth's budding bosom shed.
And thus, as star came after star, into the boundless heaven,
Were her deep thoughts, and eloquent, in pensive numbers given:
They were the offerings of a heart, where grief had long held sway;
And now the night, the hour had come, to give her feelings way:
It was the last dim night of life; the sun had sunk to rest,
And the blue twilight haze had crept on the far mountain's breast;
And thus, as in her saddened heart the tide of love grew strong,
Pour'd her meek, quiet spirit forth, this flood of mournful song:
‘The shades of evening gather now, o'er the mysterious earth,
The viewless winds are whispering, in wild, capricious mirth;
The gentle moon hath come to shed a flood of glory round,
That, through this soft and still repose, sleeps richly on the ground:
And in the free, sweet gales that sweep along my prison bar,
Seem borne the pure, deep harmonies of every kindling star:
I see the blue streams glancing in the mild and chastened light,
And the gem-lit, fleecy clouds, that steal along the brow of night.
‘Oh must I leave existence now, while life should be like spring—
While Joy should cheer my pilgrimage, with sunbeams from his wing?
Are the songs of hope for ever flown—the syren voice which flung
The chant of youth's warm happiness from the beguiler's tongue?
Shall I drink no more the melody of babbling stream or bird,
Or the scented gales of summer, as the leaves of June are stirr'd?
Shall the pulse of love wax fainter, and the spirit shrink from death,
As the bud-like thoughts that lit my heart fade in its chilling breath?
‘I have passed the dreams of childhood, and my loves and hopes are gone,
And Iturn to Thee, Redeemer ! oh, thou blest and Holy One!
Though the rose of health has vanished—though the mandate hath been spoken,
And one by one the golden links of life's fond chain are broken,
Yet can my spirit turn to T HEE , thou chastener! and can bend
In humble suppliance at thy throne, my father and my friend!
Thou, who hast crowned my youth with hope, my early days in glee,
Give me the eagle's fearless wing—the dove's, to mount to T HEE !
‘I lose my foolish hold on life, its passions and its tears:
How brief the yearning extacies of its young; careless years!
I give my heart to earth no more, the grave may clasp me now;
The winds whose tone I loved, may play in the dark cypress bough:
The birds, the streams are eloquent; yet I shall pass away,
And in the light of heaven shake off this cumbrous load of clay;
I shall join the lost, the loved of earth, and meet each kindred breast,
Where the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest.’
Sailed through the golden firmament, in the calm evening-tide;
The peasant's cheerful song was hushed by every hill and glen,
The city's voice stole faintly out, and died the hum of men:
And as night's sombre shades came down o'er day's resplendent eye,
A faded face, from a prison cell, gazed out upon the sky;
For to that face the glad bright sun of earth for aye had set,
And the last time had come to mark eve's starry coronet!
Oh, who can paint the bitter thoughts that o'er her spirit stole,
As her pale lips gave utterance to feeling's deep control;
While, shadowed from life's vista back, thronged mid her falling tears
The fantasies of early hope, dreams of departed years:
When pleasure's light was sprinkled, and silver voices flung
Their rich and echoing cadences her virgin hours among;
When there came no shadow on her brow, no tear to dim her eye,
When there frown'd no cloud of sorrow in her being's festal sky.
Perchance at that lone hour the thought of early visions came,
Of the trance that touched her lip with song, at love's mysterious flame;
When she listened to the low-breathed tones of him the idol One,
Who shone in her imagining, first ray of pleasure's sun:
Perchance the walk in evening hours—the impassioned kiss or vow,
The warm tear on the kindling cheek, the smile upon the brow:
But they came like flowers that wither, and the light of all had fled,
As a hue from April's pinion, o'er earth's budding bosom shed.
And thus, as star came after star, into the boundless heaven,
Were her deep thoughts, and eloquent, in pensive numbers given:
They were the offerings of a heart, where grief had long held sway;
And now the night, the hour had come, to give her feelings way:
It was the last dim night of life; the sun had sunk to rest,
And the blue twilight haze had crept on the far mountain's breast;
And thus, as in her saddened heart the tide of love grew strong,
Pour'd her meek, quiet spirit forth, this flood of mournful song:
‘The shades of evening gather now, o'er the mysterious earth,
The viewless winds are whispering, in wild, capricious mirth;
The gentle moon hath come to shed a flood of glory round,
That, through this soft and still repose, sleeps richly on the ground:
And in the free, sweet gales that sweep along my prison bar,
Seem borne the pure, deep harmonies of every kindling star:
I see the blue streams glancing in the mild and chastened light,
And the gem-lit, fleecy clouds, that steal along the brow of night.
‘Oh must I leave existence now, while life should be like spring—
While Joy should cheer my pilgrimage, with sunbeams from his wing?
Are the songs of hope for ever flown—the syren voice which flung
The chant of youth's warm happiness from the beguiler's tongue?
Shall I drink no more the melody of babbling stream or bird,
Or the scented gales of summer, as the leaves of June are stirr'd?
Shall the pulse of love wax fainter, and the spirit shrink from death,
As the bud-like thoughts that lit my heart fade in its chilling breath?
‘I have passed the dreams of childhood, and my loves and hopes are gone,
And Iturn to Thee, Redeemer ! oh, thou blest and Holy One!
Though the rose of health has vanished—though the mandate hath been spoken,
And one by one the golden links of life's fond chain are broken,
Yet can my spirit turn to T HEE , thou chastener! and can bend
In humble suppliance at thy throne, my father and my friend!
Thou, who hast crowned my youth with hope, my early days in glee,
Give me the eagle's fearless wing—the dove's, to mount to T HEE !
‘I lose my foolish hold on life, its passions and its tears:
How brief the yearning extacies of its young; careless years!
I give my heart to earth no more, the grave may clasp me now;
The winds whose tone I loved, may play in the dark cypress bough:
The birds, the streams are eloquent; yet I shall pass away,
And in the light of heaven shake off this cumbrous load of clay;
I shall join the lost, the loved of earth, and meet each kindred breast,
Where the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest.’