Imatges de pàgina
PDF
EPUB

Weep not, poor mourner! o'er those perished charms :
She fell not wholly with her falling clay,

For underneath 'the everlasting arms'

Caught soft and bore her better part away,

Where treacherous steeps no more shall fright or slay.
Bear well this cutting trial of his dart,

And God thy patience with her sight will pay :
Patience, the fragrance of the bruised heart,

Incense best loved of Him, who knows to heal the smart,

Oh! blessed knowledge, that all tears that shower
Enrich the heart, and make its harvest sure;
That all our sighs, like gales of favoring power,
Waft the soul's bark to starry port secure :
Then let each groan He dooms us to endure,
Be of his voice indwelling deemed the call
To guard our steps when danger's snares allure;
And every bruise be deemed, howe'er it gall,
The close grasp of his hand that would not let us fall,

Now from his fever dull collapse ensued,
With chill and torpor, both of heart and brain:
Oh! better far, than such cold, deadly mood,
His frenzy's fire were kindled there again :
They bear her on; he follows with the train,
And all unconscious quits the fatal ground;
Friends give him words and tears-but all in vain;
Earth has no balsam for a heavenly wound:
He only finds the balm that the fell weapon found.

They bear the lovely ruin to the grave;
He follows still, with measured step and slow :
Oh! who can watch unmoved, however brave,
His precious jewel sunk in earth below!
While heaps on heaps of heavy clay they throw,
All rescue closing with the load profound?

But there he stood, with stony heart and brow,

Nor shuddering once, though others wept, was found;

Save when the first-dropped clod sent up its dull cold sound,

They lead him to his home-oh! dismal scene!
There is the hearth, and there the vacant chair;
The empty cup of joys that late had been,
The blooming garden, desert now and bare:
No child, no image of his lost one, there!
And this is home-oh! mockery of home!
Lone, dark, he sits, the prisoner of despair;
Without a ray to cheer his dungeon-gloom,

Save the pale star of hope that shines beyond the tomb !

Passaic! ever when the generous sun
Unprisons Nature from her wintry gloom,
Waking young brooks to praise him as they run,
Winning all flowers to offer grateful bloom,
And pour their gushing worship in perfume;
Gay hearts shall haunt the wild and fatal steep
Where thy brave current, rushing to its doom,
Grows instant famous by a dazzling leap,

And shuddering on the brink, pause o'er the murderous deep.

There young Romance the deepness shall look down,
Sacred to passion, and to passion's wo,

And thrill with pangs and trials not his own:

And Mirth, light-tripping on the fatal brow,

Shall hush for her whose joy was quenched below:
And Love, lone-wandering in his sweet unrest,
Or linked with Beauty, there shall overflow,
At the sad tale, with sorrows unrepressed,
And clasp his treasure close and closer to his breast!
END OF 'THE LAST LOOK.'

THEODORIC: OR THE SIEGE OF ROME.

His desert speaks loud; and we should wrong it

To lock it in the wards of covert bosom,

When it deserves, with characters of brass,
A forted residence 'gainst the tooth of time,
And razure of oblivion.'

MEASURE FOR MEASURE.'

IN the reign of the Emperor Justinian, on the banks of the Euphrates, retired and alone, lived Ecebolus, once governor of the African Pentapolis, a province of the Eastern empire.

At the time this story commences, he lay sick of a fever. It was midnight, and the light from an untrimmed lamp threw a twilight shade over the spacious room. By his side sat a youth, his head resting on his hand, as he gazed with anxiety and fear on the form which lay before him. The raven locks of the sufferer were scattered in ringlets over his pillow, and his noble features were distorted, as if restlessness and pain weighed heavily upon him. But he was silent; and it was evident that the struggle between life and death had commenced, and was well nigh completed. The youth who sat by his side, seemed to watch with deep interest the evidences of returning consciousness, as if there was some secret in the bosom of the dying man, which deeply concerned himself, and which he could learn from no one else.

[ocr errors]

It is all over!' he exclaimed, as he fancied he saw the last struggle of expiring nature; and bursting into tears, he rose from his seat and moved toward the door. A noise in the direction of the couch caught his ear, and hastening back, he found that the sick man had revived, and was looking him full in the face.

'Come near,' he whispered faintly; and the youth placed his ear close to the faltering lips of the speaker. For a moment he remained in this position, trying to catch the struggling speech of the dying man. He stood listening, even after the sufferer had ceased to articulate; when he had said all his strength would permit, he quietly pushed the youth aside. Summoning what vital energy remained, Ecebolus drew from his bosom a rich miniature, and extending it toward the young man, exclaimed, in faltering accents, 'Beware!"

But the arm which was held forth, was stricken with death, before the youth could grasp the rich treasure which it held, and the miniature fell upon the floor. It sprung open, and he found within evidence which rendered certain all that had been obscurely gathered from the broken speech of the corse before him. God of the Christian, is it so!' exclaimed the youth, as he smote his breast, and hastened from the apartment.

Theodoric, for such was the name of the youth who attended the At the age of ten, last moments of Ecebolus, was a native of Tyre. he was removed to the hills of Yemen, in Arabia. The history of his birth was both a secret and a mystery, to himself and the world. When hurried into the mountains of Yemen, it did not escape his notice, notwithstanding his youth, that the forced retirement had some object other than to rescue him from the vices and temptations of a profligate city. He was protected and guided by Gilimer, the nurse

and friend of his youth, who, with no other friend than Theodoric, sought security under the name of happiness, in an obscure part of the mountains.

But the life of a hermit did not suit his restless and daring spirit. He complained bitterly that in the bloom and freshness of youth, he should be made to anticipate and feel the inactivity of age. The use of the bow and the javelin, the excitement of the chase, and the study of the arts of war, were in turn resorted to, to soothe his spirit, and occupy his time. From childhood he had manifested a predilection for arms, and he early familiarized his mind with the history of the first Romans. But the mystery of his birth sat heavy upon him, and all he could extort from his nurse, was, that he was of noble parents, but that farther knowledge might be the prelude to his destruction. The care with which his existence was concealed from the world; the mystery which hung over him; and the obscure hints which increased rather than diminished his anxiety, all preyed upon his mind, and added to the miseries of his situation.

Twice each year Theodoric and Gilimer visited the banks of the Euphrates, and always met a hearty welcome at the hands of Ecebolus. But they were now received with caution as well as affection; and after a few days' sojourn, were dismissed with anxiety. Twice during these visits, Theodoric was awakened in the night, and hurried away to the mountains.

When he had attained his twentieth year, the restraints by which he was surrounded became insufferable; and he determined to force every barrier, and make his way into the world. I have been guilty of no crime; I have wronged no man; I have done the world no injustice; then why should I,' exclaimed the noble youth, be shut up in the mountains, like a robber! No,' he continued, as he wiped a tear from his eyes, I will seek the camp, and win my way to death or glory, under the eagles of the empire!'

The youth departed stealthily from his solitary abode, and after many vicissitudes, arrived safely in Italy, at that time the theatre of a bloody war. Theoditus, the king of the Goths, after a feeble struggle to maintain a crown which he purchased with crime, and which he afterward proved himself unworthy to wear, had been defeated and slain by the legions of Belisarius, who were then in possession of Rome. But the Goths were not disheartened by the loss of their capital; and Vitiges, a successful general in the Illyrian war, was raised by the voice of the soldiery to the head of the nation. A spirit of resistance animated the barbarians; and in a short time Vitiges could boast, that one hundred and fifty thousand fighting men marched under his banner to the siege of Rome. Theodoric, pursuing the Appian Way, which, after a lapse of nine centuries, still preserved its primitive beauty, came in sight of the capital, a few days before the besieging army crossed the Tiber, and commenced the attack upon the city.

As he entered the Asinarian gate, he heard the shouts of the soldiers in the direction of Hadrian's Sepulchre, and with rapid steps he hastened thither. He felt his heart beat quick, as he approached and beheld the eagles under which Cæsar, Pompey, Scilla, Scipio, and others, carried among the nations of the earth the terror and glory

of Rome. The army was formed into a hollow square, and in the centre sat a commanding figure on a bay horse, whom the quick eye of Theodoric recognised at a glance as the immortal Belisarius, of whom Rome might have been proud in the days of Cæsar. He was surrounded by his officers, and was in the act of addressing the army. His frame was large, and formed both for activity and strength. A dark complexion was rendered still darker by the effects of an African sun, during his early campaigns; and a countenance in which there was an expression of energy and decision, wisdom and benevolence, was lit up by a black piercing eye, in a 'front like Mars, to threaten and command.'

[ocr errors]

'For sixty years,' exclaimed the hero, 'have the barbarians of the North defiled by their presence the tombs of our ancestors. You have rescued them by your valor; you cannot now surrender them, without the loss of your honor. Already has Vitiges, with his hosts, pitched their tents at the foot of the Milvian bridge, and threaten Rome with a siege. How long will you,' continued he, addressing the veterans who had fought under his standard in the wars of Persia and Africa, how long will you suffer the ignorance of the Goth to eclipse the glory of Rome? Could I have been persuaded that the Roman people had so far degenerated, that death would be more painful than to surrender to the barbarians the ashes of their ancestors, Theoditus would not have been dethroned, for no greater ignominy could befal him, than to reign over such subjects. If there be one among you who fears the arms of the Goths more than he does the loss of his honor, let him depart for the camp of the barbarians! Let him forsake the eagles, that he may not incur disgrace beneath the same banners under which, in other countries, he covered himself with glory!'

Here the veterans hung their heads, evidently wounded by the suspicions which they imagined lurked under the speech of their general. Belisarius observed it, and continued: 'No, veterans! you need but to meet the enemy, to prove yourselves worthy of your former glory, and the name of Roman soldiers!' The air was now rent with shouts, and Belisarius gallopped off, his ears deafened with the cries of the people and the army.

At the time Theodoric entered Rome, he had attained his twentieth year. Nature had cast him in her choicest mould; and notwithstanding his ten years' seclusion fron the world, he excelled in the natural graces of mind, as he did in the elegance and dignity of his person. He was large and muscular, the bloom and freshness of youth were his, and his whole bearing was that of one whom nature intended for command. Yet the mystery which surrounded him gave a serious cast to his thoughts and actions; and upon his countenance, which was of a dark olive hue, there was always an expression of touching melancholy. Such was Theodoric, at the period of which we have been speaking. Where there were not more than forty thousand men to defend a wall twelve miles in circumference, against one hundred and fifty thousand barbarians, it was no difficult matter for one like our hero to obtain permission to join the army. Familiar from his boyhood with the bow, the javelin, and the sword, he felt himself equal, in the use of these weapons, to the oldest veterans ;

and he took upon himself with delight the rank and services of a common soldier.

The walls of Rome, owing to the negligence of the Goths, were to a great extent a heap of ruins. The genius of Belisarius was busily at work to place them in a condition to resist the powerful force which was soon to be brought to bear against them. In a short time all was repaired, except a chasm, still extant, between the Pincian and Flaminian gates, which the prejudices of the Goths and Romans left to the effectual guard of Saint Peter the Apostle. Bastions were constructed; a ditch broad and deep protected the ramparts, upon which were stationed archers and military engines; a chain was drawn across the Tiber; the aqueducts were repaired; the granaries were stored from the fields of Tuscany, Sicily, and Campania; and in fact every thing was done which the quick sight of the general detected as necessary, either to repel an enemy, or subsist an army.

The Gothic general was no less active in preparing to advance the siege, than his great adversary was to repel it; and he held forth the most liberal promises to those who should distinguish themselves in the great struggle which was about to commence. Moving his army along the Flaminian way, he hastened his steps until he arrived at the Milvian bridge, two miles distant from Rome. A tower which commanded the narrow passage, was thought by Belisarius sufficient to detain the enemy until another could be constructed; and believing that Vitiges was still on the opposite side of the Tiber, he marched out of the Flaminian gate, at the head of one thousand horse, which had been selected for the occasion, to mark the ground, and survey the camp of the barbarians. But he soon found that the soldiers to whose charge the tower had been intrusted, had disappointed his expectations by their unmanly flight, and that he was surrounded by the squadrons of the enemy. Encompassed on all sides, he was recognised by the deserters; and a thousand voices were heard to exclaim, "Strike at the bay horse !' Every bow was bent, and every javelin directed to the fated object; until the guards by whom he was surrounded bowed like grass under the breath of the tempest. The barbarians rushed in to fill up the space, and in a short time Belisarius stood almost single-handed in the midst of the enemy. The foremost of the host fell pierced with thirteen wounds, which truth or fiction has ascribed to the general himself.

[ocr errors]

Where are my guards!' he exclaimed, as, almost exhausted, he defended himself against the fearful odds.

They are dead!' said a youth at his side, as he dealt destruction at every blow. At a moment when the barbarians were confident of triumph, he had darted into the midst of the struggle, like a swooping eagle, and so quick and powerful was his arm, that they fell back in awe, believing for an instant that the protecting spirit of Belisarius had come to the rescue. A moment was given the general to breathe, and rally his remaining strength, when, by the side of the youth, both charged in the direction of another portion of the guards, which were hastening to their relief. But before they could effect their object, the horse of Belisarius sunk under repeated wounds, and being entangled in the trappings, he was dragged down and fastened to the earth. Twenty spears were at once aimed at his life, upon whom all

« AnteriorContinua »