Che Sisters.
A ROMAUNT, FOR MUSIC.
All-beauteous Lady Arabell
Glanced scornfully aside,—
Alas! for he hath loved her well,
In spite of all her pride;
Yet coldly to that noble heart
In all its glowing youth,
Away! she cried,-and spurn'd aside
Its tenderness and truth.
Away!—and at her feet he fell
As cold and white as stone! And heartless Lady Arabell Has left him all alone; Alone, to live? alone, to die?
Alone?-Yet who art thou,Some guardian angel from the sky To bless and aid him now?
Ah! Florence loves young Cecil well, And pines this many a day,—
For star-eyed sister Arabell
Hath won his heart away,
Hath won it all by treacherous arts
To fling it all aside,
And break a pair of loving hearts
For triumph and for pride!
Fair Florence with her eyes of blue
And locks of golden light;
Dark Arabell's of raven hue
With flashing orbs of night;
And has young Cecil chosen well
Between that sister pair,
The proud and brilliant Arabell
Or gentle Florence fair?
O bitter morn! O blessed morn!
For lo, he turns to love
No more that raven queen of scorn,
But this sweet sister dove:
In spite of lustrous Arabell
And all her envious pride,
Young Cecil loves his Florence well, And-Florence is his bride.
O mighty Perseverance!
O Courage, stern and stout!
That wills and works a clearance
Of every rabble rout,-
That cannot brook denial
And scarce allows delay,
But wins from every trial
More strength for every day,-
Antagonistic Power!
I praise, for praise I can,-
The GOD, the place, the hour
That makes a man a Man,—
The GOD-from whom all greatness,
The place, Old England's shore,
The hour, an hour of lateness
(For Time shall soon be o'er);
The Man,-aye, every brother
Of Anglo-Saxon race
Who owns an English mother
And Freedom's dwelling-place!
In spite of wrath and riot,
In spite of quick, and dead,-
Hot Energy to spur me,
Keen Enterprise to guide,
And Conscience to upstir me,
And Duty by my side,
And Hope before me singing
Assurance of success,
And rapid Action springing
At once to nothing less,-
And all the mighty movings
That wrestle in my breast,
The longings and the lovings,
The Spirit's glad unrest,
That scorns excuse to tender
Or Fortune's favour ask,
And never will surrender
Whatever be the task!
I cannot wait for chances,
For luck I will not look;
In faith my spirit glances
At Providence, GOD's book;
And there discerning truly
That right is might at length,
I dare go forward duly
In quietness and strength,
Unflinching and unfearing,
The flatterer of none,
And in good courage wearing
The honours I have won!
Let circumstance oppose me,
I beat it to my
And if the flood o'erflows me,
I dive and stem it still;
No hindering dull Material
Shall conquer or control
My energies ethereal,
My gladiator Soul!
I will contrive occasion,
Not tamely bide my time:
No Capture, but Creation
Shall make my sport sublime; Let lower spirits linger
For hint and beck and nod,
I always see the finger
Of an onward-urging GOD!
Not selfish, not hard-hearted,
Not vain, nor deaf, nor blind,
From wisdom not departed,
But in humbleness of mind,
Still shall mine independence
Stand manfully alone,
Nor dance a dull attendance
At any mortal throne;
Disciple of no teacher
Except the ONE in Heaven, And yielding to no creature The Reason He hath given! O thus, while contemplation In faith beholds above
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