You have heard in a far country
Of a self-devoted band,

Vowed to rescue Christian captives
Pining in a foreign land.

And these gentle-hearted strangers
Year by year go forth from Rome,
In their hands the hard-earned ransom,
To restore some exiles home.

I was freed: they broke the tidings
Gently to me: but indeed

Hour by hour sped on, I knew not
What the words meant - I was freed!

Better so, perhaps ;

while

sorrow

(More akin to earthly things)

Only strains the sad heart's fibres,

Joy, bright stranger, breaks the strings.

Yet at last it rushed upon me,

And my heart beat full and fast; What were now my years of waiting, What was all the dreary past? Nothing to the impatient throbbing I must bear across the sea: Nothing to the eternal hours

Still between my home and me!

How the voyage passed I know not;
Strange it was once more to stand
With my countrymen around me,
And to clasp an English hand.
But, through all, my heart was dreaming
Of the first words I should hear,

In the gentle voice that echoed,
Fresh as ever, on my ear.

Should I see her start of wonder,
And the sudden truth arise,
Flushing all her face and lightening
The dimmed splendor of her eyes?
Oh! to watch the fear and doubting
Stir the silent depths of pain,
And the rush of joy — then melting
Into perfect peace again.

And the child!

but why remember
Foolish fancies that I thought?
Every tree and every hedge-row
From the well-known past I brought;
I would picture my dear cottage,
See the crackling wood-fire burn,
And the two beside it seated,
Watching, waiting, my return.

So at last we reached the harbor.
I remember nothing more

Till I stood, my sick heart throbbing,
With my hand upon the door.
There I paused— I heard her speaking;
Low, soft, murmuring words she said;
Then I first knew the dumb terror

I had had lest she were dead.

It was evening in late autumn,
And the gusty wind blew chill;
Autumn leaves were falling round me,
And the red sun lit the hill.
Six-and-twenty years are vanished
Since then, -I am old and gray,

But I never told to mortal

What I saw, until this day.

She was seated by the fire,

In her arms she held a child,
Whispering baby-words caressing,
And then, looking up, she smiled;
Smiled on him who stood beside her -
Oh! the bitter truth was told,
In her look of trusting fondness -
I had seen the look of old!

But she rose and turned towards me
(Cold and dumb I waited there)
With a shriek, of fear and terror,
And a white face of despair.
He had been an ancient comrade
Not a single word we said,
While we gazed upon each other,
He the living: I the dead!

I drew nearer, nearer to her,

And I took her trembling hand, Looking on her white face, looking That her heart might understand All the love and all the pity

That my lips refused to say.

I thank God no thought save sorrow
Rose in our crushed hearts that day.

Bitter tears that desolate moment,
Bitter, bitter tears we wept,
We three broken hearts together,
While the baby smiled and slept.
Tears alone- no words were spoken,

Till he till her husband said

That my boy, (I had forgotten

The poor child,) that he was dead.

Then at last I rose, and, turning,

Wrung his hand, but made no sign;
And I stooped and kissed her forehead
Once more, as if she were mine.
Nothing of farewell I uttered,
Save in broken words to pray

That God would ever guard and bless her,
Then in silence passed away.

Over the great restless ocean
Six-and-twenty years I roam;
All my comrades, old and weary,
Have gone back to die at home.
Home! yes, I shall reach a haven,
I, too, shall reach home and rest;
I shall find her waiting for me
With our baby on her breast.

LIFE AND DEATH.

HAT is Life, father?"

"A battle, my child,

Where the strongest lance may fail,

Where the wariest eyes may be beguiled

And the stoutest heart may quail.

Where the foes are gathered on every hand,

And rest not day or night,

And the feeble little ones must stand

In the thickest of the fight."

"What is Death, father?"

"The rest, my child,

When the strife and the toil are o'er;

The angel of God, who, calm and mild,
Says we need fight no more;

Who, driving away the demon band,

Bids the din of the battle cease;

Takes banner and spear from our failing hand, And proclaims an eternal peace."

"Let me die, father! I tremble, and fear To yield in that terrible strife!"

"The crown must be won for heaven, dear,

In the battle-field of life:

My child, though thy foes are strong and tried,
He loveth the weak and small;

The angels of heaven are on thy side,
And God is over all!"

NOW.

ISE! for the day is passing,
And you lie dreaming on;
The others have buckled their armor,
And forth to the fight are gone:

A place in the ranks awaits you,
Each man has some part to play;

The Past and the Future are nothing,

In the face of the stern To-day.