LOVE’S DESTINY.

49Where the gray crag kisses the virgin sky,

And the fledgling eagles half-famished cry,

Where the sun’s kind glance warms the cloud to tears,

And the snow-bank clings to the earth for years;

Where the lichens starve and the sad winds mourn,

There, a host of cupids at eve were born.

They came tumbling out from their rocky nest,

Nor regretful wailed for the rugged breast;

But astride the crest of a stream as blue

As the star-lit sky; with their arrows true,

Downy, sun-tipped wings and the briefest legs,

Just like dear young ducklings released from eggs.

They are fluttering, splashing in frolic gay,

Whirling here and there in the misty spray;

Now, anon, down dizziest steeps they glide,

All demurely, roguishly, side by side;

In their path, huge bowlders await, but see!

With a somersault they are passed in glee.

50Through a rock-bound glen next they gurgling go.

’Neath caressing, whispering branches, low,

For a splashing romp, undisturbed by fear,

In a broad lake, billowy, deep and clear;

But they’re nearing, blindly, the crumbling edge

Of a ragged, cruel and treacherous ledge;

While those countless myriads are hurrying in,—

Crowding, racing, chasing from brim to brim:

Hark! With hands clasped over an aching breast,

A poor Soul moans, “Come to me, Love, and rest;

Long and patiently have I watched for you:

Fill my heart and home with yourselves so true.”

Do you hear them chant, in their rapturous glee,

“Never tires Love, Soul; we are not for thee.

We must on and on, like the water blue;

Bravely wait, work, hope, till your Love finds you.

Danger waits below; you are tempting Death;”

She is calling, still; for, with bated breath,

Has she watched, benumbed, while a sportive elf

Laughing wildly, recklessly, cast himself

From their midst, to the surging depths below;

And she moans, “Dear Love, I shall miss you so.”

“Love but laughs at dangers; fear not;” they say,

“Fancy not he dies: We all live for aye.”

51Right over they tumbled;—she peers down to see—

Not death;—but mad revels of exquisite glee:

Joyous myriads whirled in the dashing spray!

· · · · ·

Think ye not love dies in an hour—a day;

’Tis his dim, dull shadow, o’er which men weep,

When a sun-cloud gives to the shadow, sleep;

But Immortal love, ever close beside,

Through life’s midnight hours will undimmed abide.

Watch and pray, lone Soul, for the love that lasts;

Sighing not o’er shadows another casts;

Lest a passion-cloud should engulf your way,

Till you, helpless and hopeless, drift astray.

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES

Table of Contents added by transcriber.

Silently corrected typographical errors and variations in spelling.

Archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings retained as printed.