Thus far had Ernest read: but, closing now Forgive me, patient God, for this!" he said: "And you forgive, dear friend, and dearest wife, If I have marred an hour of this sweet life With noises from the valley of the Dead. Long, long ago, the Hand whereat I railed In blindness gave me courage to subdue This wild revolt: I see wherein I failed: My heart was false, when most I thought it true, My sorrow selfish, when I thought it pure. For those we lose, if still their love endure Translation to that other land, where Love Breathes the immortal wisdom, ask in heaven No greater sacrifice than we had given On earth, our love's integrity to prove. If we are blest to know the other blest, Then treason lies in sorrow. Vainly said! Alone each heart must cover up its dead; Alone, through bitter toil, achieve its rest: Which I have found — but still these records keep, Lest I, condemning others, should forget My own rebellion. From these tares I reap, In evil days, a fruitful harvest yet. "But 't is enough, to-night. Nay, Philip, here A chapter closes. See! the moon is near: Your laurels glitter: come, my darling, sing The hymn I wrote on such a night as this!" Then Edith, stooping first to take his kiss, Drew from its niche of woodbine her guitar, With chords prelusive tuned a slackened string, And sang, clear-voiced, as some melodious star Were dropping silver sweetness from afar : God, to whom we look up blindly, Look Thou down upon us kindly: We have sinned, but not designedly. If our faith in Thee was shaken, Pardon Thou our hearts mistaken, Our obedience reawaken. We Te are sinful, Thou art holy: Thou art mighty, we are lowly: Let us reach Thee, climbing slowly. Our ingratitude confessing, SECOND EVENING. IT was the evening of the second day, Which swifter, sweeter than the first had fled : My heart's delicious tumult passed away And left a sober happiness instead. For Ernest's voice was ever in mine ear, His presence mingled as of old with mine, But stronger, manlier, brighter, more divine Its effluence now: within his starry sphere Of love new-risen my nature too was drawn, And warmed with rosy flushes of the dawn. All day we drove about the lovely vales, His pliant rods, the berried spice-wood grew, The silver water-dust in puffs arose And turned to dust of jewels in the sun, Sang down the dell, and deepened its repose. Long after every star came out, we paced Erelong in Ernest's hand the volume lay, (I did not need a second time to ask,) And he resumed the intermitted task. "This night, dear Philip, is the Poet's day," He said: "the world is one confessional : Our sacred memories as freely fall As leaves from o'er-ripe blossoms: we betray IF ATONEMENT. F thou hadst died at midnight, When the bird of heaven had called thee, And the northern lights were dancing If thou hadst died at midnight, I had knelt, in the awful Presence, For my sins toward the dead. |