Sidor som bilder
PDF
ePub

SONNETS WRITTEN AFTER ADHÉMAR'S DEATH.

XXIV.

THE NEWS OF ADHÉMAR'S DEATH.

WOE's me! my pulse stands still! Adhémar's dead! I read it in the Journal of this morn,

That was to me by brawling newsboy borne.

Mine eye fell on the telegraphic head,

And running down the column swift as hawk

Darts preyward, midway halted, while a shudder

Shot through my heart, as through a ship whose rudder

Strikes suddenly against a coral rock.

"After three weeks," it ran, "of agony,

Precisely fifteen minutes ere eleven

Adhémar's spirit passed away to heaven,

Enwrapped in mantle of serenity;
To-morrow, as the sun goes to his bed,

The knell will call him to the city of the dead.

XXV.

WHO ADHEMAR WAS.

"He was a lawyer-in the noon of youth;

His eagle thoughts like pinioned arrows flew
Into his theme, and pierced it through and through:
Clove Falsehood down, and raised up trembling Truth.
Upon the wings of eloquence he lifted

Up with his soul, star-soaring souls of crowds,
And with these eaglets swept beyond the clouds,
Till 'gainst the azure brow of heaven they drifted.
He was a genius-lofty-generous-kind-

A genius of that high volcanic order

That hurls its lava forth in wild disorder,

And with its rockets strikes the planets blind." I read it through—and from my hand, like lead, The paper fell-and left me rigid, as if dead.

XXVI.

ARRIVAL IN SPIRIT-LAND.

"Tis just six months ago, beloved, to-day,
Since Death rode by upon his pallid steed,
And plucked thee from the wayside, like a reed,
Then sank his spurs into his iron gray.

'Tis just six months to-day, since, out of breath, He sat thee on the shores of Acheron ;

And called grim Charon, who, with grizzly frown,

Did ferry thee across the stream of Death. 'Tis just six months, to-day, since thy fair feet First pressed the borders of the spirit-land, And thou didst give the angels thy white hand, Who thy arrival came with flowers to greetSix months, to-day, since thou, at Eden's gate, Seated with them, didst all glad news of earth relate.

XXVII.

MY THOUGHTS HANG ON THE GATES OF PARADISE.

THOU'ST taken all my thoughts to heaven with thee;

I cannot chain them in their cells below,

But through the bolts and bars away they go,
Till on the borders of th' empyrean sky,
Disconsolate, they perch on Eden's gate,

And, pressing their fair faces 'gainst the grate,
There rapt, they hang a-gazing in on thee;

Arrayed in purple of eternity.

There rapt, they watch thee pace celestial bowers :

There rapt, survey the sylphs entwine thy hair

With blossoms nurtured in seraphic air.

There rapt, behold thee clasp the white-winged hours, Until heaven's jealous porter them espies,

And, sore offended, shuts the gates of Paradise.

XXVIII.

ADHÉMAR'S REIGN.

TWELVE years, Adhémar, thou didst rule my heart

Twelve years usurp its realms from zone to zone-
Twelve years serenely sit upon its throne,

Despite of many a rival's pointed dart.

Twelve years thou wert the shepherd of the flocks
That gathered in its Càabà to hear

Thee preach of beauty, truth, faith, hope, love, cheer.
Twelve years thou cam'st at dawn upon the rocks
That gird my soul, to talk with Poesy,

And watch my thoughts at play among the flowers,
Like lambs; or wrestling with the rosy hours;
Or bathing in the founts of minstrelsy.

O Death! how couldst thou such a monarch slay! And leave my heart-world to a base plebeian sway ?

« FöregåendeFortsätt »