124
poems.
Wearied with travelling in the storm,
A pitying brother gently view'd
The prison'd youth and cell so rude.
Oh, whence doth come this manly form
Defying terror and the storm?
But mostly leaving all most dear
The wand'ring child to find and cheer?
See honor waits him; this he leaves,
The sad tale of the lost receives;
He leaves the halls when triumph reigns,
His name with prison'd ones he stains;
Acknowledges the tie which heaven
Mysteriously has form'd and given,
And feels that power is ne'er so great
As when it grasps the arm of fate,
When magnanimously it spurns
Its own high interest, when it turns
That heavy door, the captive's gate,
Rejoicing it is not too late!
A pitying brother gently view'd
The prison'd youth and cell so rude.
Oh, whence doth come this manly form
Defying terror and the storm?
But mostly leaving all most dear
The wand'ring child to find and cheer?
See honor waits him; this he leaves,
The sad tale of the lost receives;
He leaves the halls when triumph reigns,
His name with prison'd ones he stains;
Acknowledges the tie which heaven
Mysteriously has form'd and given,
And feels that power is ne'er so great
As when it grasps the arm of fate,
When magnanimously it spurns
Its own high interest, when it turns
That heavy door, the captive's gate,
Rejoicing it is not too late!
Time speeds away. The judgment hour
To some with dark despair must low'r;
But trust and hope with heaven-lit smile
In the dark cell the hours beguile,
And oh, the hour at last must come
To him a happy summons home.
Why should he fear? his brother pleads,
And for his pardon intercedes;
To some with dark despair must low'r;
But trust and hope with heaven-lit smile
In the dark cell the hours beguile,
And oh, the hour at last must come
To him a happy summons home.
Why should he fear? his brother pleads,
And for his pardon intercedes;
