« السابقةمتابعة »
So should my hand a votive temple rear,
Through many a distant age
Long should the stately monument proclaim
That no ungrateful heart,
R. Tbe FILBERT.
Nay gather not that Filbert, Nicholas,
Enough of dangers and of enemies
Stately yon vessel sails adown the tide
To some far-distant land adventurous bound, The sailors busy cries from side to side
Pealing among the echoing rocks resound; A patient, thoughtless, much-enduring band,
Joyful they enter on their ocean way, With shouts exulting leave their native land,
And know no care beyond the present day. But is there no poor mourner left behind,
Who sorrows for a child or husband there? Who at the howling of the midnight wind
Will wake and tremble in her boding prayer? So
may her voice be heard, and Heaven be kind Go gallant ship, and be thy fortune fair!
Beware a speedy friend, the Arabian said,
And wisely was it he advised distrust.
The flower that blossoms earliest fades the first. Look at yon oak that lifts its stately head And dallies with the autumnal storm, whose rage
Tempests the ocean waves; slowly it rose,
And timidly did its light leaves unclose
They to the summer cautiously expand,
And by the warmer sun and season bland