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Love and Death.
Love wept, and spread his sheeny vans for
flight; What time the mighty moon was gathering light Yet, ere he parted, said, "This hour is thine: Love paced the thymy plots of Paradise, Thou art the shadow of life, and as the tree And all about him rolled his lustrous eyes; Stands in the sun and shadows all beneath, When, turning round a casia , full in view, So in the light of great eternity Death, walking all alone beneath a yew, Life eminent creates the shade of death; And talking to himself, first met his sight: The shadow passeth when the tree shall “You must begone,” said Death, "these walks
fall, are mine." But I shall reign for ever over all.”
How it t.
Mary Howitt, einer Quäkerfamilie angehörend und mütterlicher Seite von dem berühmten Charles Wood abstammend, welcher zuerst die Platina in England einführte, ward um 1806 zu Coleford in Gloucestershire geboren und vermählte sich in ihrem einundzwanzigsten Jahre mit dem gleichfalls als Schriftsteller ausgezeichneten William Howitt. Sie lebten nach ihrer Verheirathung anfangs zu Nottingham, dann zu Esher in Surrey und haben in den letzteren Jahren längere Zeit in Deutschland, namentlich in Heidelberg, zugebracht.
Theils in Verbindung mit ihrem Gatten, theils allein gab Mistress Howitt heraus: The Forest Minstrel, London 1823; the Desolation of Eyam and other Poems, London 1827; The seven Temptations, a series of dramatic poems, London 1834; ferner Jugendschriften wie: Sketches of Natural History, Tales in Verse, u. A. m. sowie einzelne Gedichte und Aufsätze in Zeitschriften und Almanachen.
Tiefe, echte Frömmigkeit, reiche Einbildungskraft, warmes Gefühl, Herrschaft über Sprache und Form und grosse Anmuth der Darstellung, haben ihren Leistungen viele Freunde erworben und ihr eine sehr ehrenvolle Stellung in der englischen literarischen Welt gesichert.
An old Man's Story. There was an old and quiet man,
A lovely thing on the wave was she, And by the fire sate he;
With her canvass set so gallantly "And now," he said, “to you I'll tell
Before a steady breeze.
“For forty days, like a winged thing,
She went before the gale, “ 'Tis five-and-fifty years gone by,
Nor all that time we slackened speed,
Turn'd helm, or alter'd sail.
“She was a laden argosy
Of wealth from the Spanish main, "She was a trim, stout-timbered ship,
And the treasure hoards of a Portuguese And built for stormy seas,
Returning home again.
"But list ye me
on the lone high seas, “And when they spoke of the murdered man, As the ship went smoothly on,
And the El Dorado hoard, It chanced, in the silent, second watch,
They all surmised he had walked in dreams
And had fallen over board.
“But I, alone, and the murderer,
That dreadful thing did know,
a murdered man, "I started to my feet, and, lo!
A thousand fathom low.
"And many days, and many more
Came on, and lagging sped;
And the heavy waves that sleeping sea "I heard it drop into the sea,
Were dark, like molten lead.
“And not a breeze came, east orwest,
And burning was the sky;
And stilling was each breath we drew
Of the air so hot and dry.
"Oh me! there was a smell of death
Hung round us night and day;
And I dared not look in the sea below
Where the old man's body lay.
And he bolted fast the door;
And up and down the sailors walked,
And wish'd that the calm was o'er.
"The captain's son was on board with us, And the plagues of the storm will come from
A fair child, seven years old,
With a merry look, that all men loved,
And a spirit kind and bold.
"And the plagues of the storm will follow us, “I loved the child, and I took his hand, For Heaven his groans hath heard!'
And made him kneel, and pray Still the captain's eye was fixed on me, That the crime, for which the calm was sent, But he answer'd never a word.
Might be purged clean away.
"For I thought that God would hear his prayer, I heard the dismal, drowning cries,
Of their last agony.
“There was a curse in the wind that blew,
A curse in the boiling wave;
And the captain knew that vengeance came "Yet I told him not wherefore he prayed,
From the old man's ocean grave.
“And I heard him say, as he sate apart, To a soul so innocent.
In a hollow voice and low,
''Tis a cry of blood doth follow us, "At length I saw a little cloud
And still doth plague us so!'
"And then those heavy iron chests, And blackened as it came.
With desperate strength took he,
Did cast them into the sea.
“And out from the bottom of the sea, And water-spouts, with a rushing sound,
There came a hollow groan; Like giants, passed us by.
The captain by the gunwale stood,
And he looked like icy stone, "And all around, 'twixt sky and sea,
And he drew in his breath with a gasping sob, A hollow wind did blow;
And a spasm of death came on. And the waves were heaved from the ocean
"And a furious boiling wave rose up, And the ship rocked to and fro.
With a rushing, thundering roar;
But I never saw him more.
“Two days before, when the storm began, And I saw the plagues of wind and storm
We were forty men and five; Their missioned work pursuing.
But ere the middle of that night
There were but two alive. “There was a yell in the gathering winds, A groan in the heaving sea;
“The child and I, we were but two,
Oh! it was pitiful to see
And his little prayers to hear! "He seized each rope with a madman's haste,
And he set the helm to go; And every sail he crowded on
"At length, as if his prayers were heard, As the furious winds did blow.
The clear sun shone, and warm and low, “And away they went, like autumn leaves A steady wind from the west did blow, Before the tempest's rout;
And drove us gently on.
"And on we drove, and on we drove,
That fair young child and I;
And he uttered not a cry.
“There was no bread within the wreck,
And water we had none; "And 'mid the creaking timber's din,
Yet he murmured not, and cheered me And the roaring of the sea,
When my last hopes were gone :
But I saw him waste, and waste away,
And his rosy cheek grow wan.
"Still on we drove, I knew not where,
For many nights and days;
Had there been one to raise.
"Still on we went, as the west wind drove,
On, on, o'er the pathless tide; And I lay in a sleep, 'twixt life and death,
And the child was at my side.
"And it chanced, as we were drifting on
Amid the great South Sea,
That was sailing cheerily;
And asked what we might be.
“The young child at the cheer rose up,
And gave an answering word, And they drew him from the drifting wreck
As light as is a bird.
“They took him gently in their arms,
And put again to sea: 'Not yet! not yet !'he feebly cried,
'There was a man with me.'
"Again unto the wreck they came,
Where, like one dead, I lay, And a ship-boy small had strength enough
To carry me away.
"Oh, joy it was when sense returned,
That fair, warm ship to see;
Speak pleasant words to me!
"I thought at first that we had died,
And all our pains were o'er, And in a blessed ship of Heaven
Were sailing to its shore.
"But they were human forms that knelt
Beside our bed to pray ;
Did watch us night and day.
"'Twas a dismal tale I had to tell,
Of wreck and wild distress;
The voice of hidden rills
And awfully the everlasting hills Address you in their many-toned winds.
Ye sit upon the earta
Children of pleasant song
And a pure mighty influence, 'mid your mirth For hoary legends to your wilds belong,
Hence is it that the lands
Profusely, like the summer flowers that lie Were of the hills like you, ye little ones! In the green path, beneath your gamesome tread!
Thomas R. Hervey ward um 1816 in der Nähe von Paisley geboren, erhielt seine Erziehung in Manchester und lebt hier als practischer Jurist. Er veröffentlichte the Poetical Sketch-Book 1835, the Book of Christmas und einzelne Gedichte in Zeitschriften. Seine Poesieen wenn gleich nicht ersten Ranges zeichnen sich durch reiche Phantasie und treffliche Diction sehr vor theilhaft aus.
A Twilight Landscape.
Along the green meadows, when life was in
prime, Oh! come at this hour, love! the daylight is And worshipped its face in the stream:
When our hopes were as sweet, and our life-path
light, And her curtain is drawn in the sky;
Along the blue depths of the sky! And the gale, as it wantons along the young Then come in this hour, love! when twilight has buds,
hung Falls faint on the ear like a sigh!
Its shadowy mantle around;
from thy tongue, And, methinks, there were pain, in the noon of Or thy footfall scarce heard on the ground!
Shall steal on the silence, to waken a fear To a spirit so broken as thine!
When the sun that is gone, with its heat,
Then, hearts that are broken should meet!
speak of the time When we wandered beneath its soft gleam,