Thousand times her call renews.
With his gift so bright and fair,
"Mother," he said in confusion:--"You greatly surprise me!" and quicklyWiped he away his tears, the noble and sensitive youngster."What! You are weeping, my son?" the startled mother continued"That is indeed unlike you! I never before saw you crying!Say, what has sadden'd your heart? What drives you to sit here all lonelyUnder the shade of the pear-tree? What is it that makes you unhappy?"
His image, who, by grief oppress'd,
Yet the strength of its natureTo Earth's exhausting avarice,To Air's destructive inroads,An antidote opposed.
So, by the harsh decree of Fate,
In million tones entwined for evermore,
I acknowledge thee no more.Fled is all that gave thee gladness,Fled the cause of all thy sadness,
WHEN the pastor ask'd the foreign magistrate questions,What the people had suffer'd, how long from their homes they had wander'd,Then the man replied:--"By no means short are our sorrows,For we have drunk the bitters of many a long year together,All the more dreadful, because our fairest hopes have been blighted.Who can deny that his heart beat wildly and high in his bosomAnd that with purer pulses his breast more freely was throbbing,When the newborn sun first rose in the whole of its glory,When we heard of the right of man, to have all things in common,Heard of noble Equality, and of inspiriting Freedom!Each man then hoped to attain new life for himself, and the fettersWhich had encircled many a land appear'd to be broken,Fetters held by the hands of sloth and selfish indulgence.Did not all nations turn their gaze, in those days of emotion,Tow'rds the world's capital, which so many a long year had been so,And then more than ever deserved a name so distinguish'd?Were not the men, who first proclaim'd so noble a message,Names that are worthy to rank with the highest the sun ever shone on,Did not each give to mankind his courage and genius and language?
As he proceeded on his wayHe thought, "I was too weak to-day;To bow I'll ne'er again be seen;For goats will swallow what is green."Across the fields he now must speed,Not over stumps and stones, indeed,But over meads and cornfields sweet,Trampling down all with clumsy feet.A farmer met him by-and-by,And didn't ask him: how? or why?But with his fist saluted him.
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