170 SCENE FROM HADAD. Itself, o'ershadowed by the Cherubim ; And where the clotted current from the altar Tam. (in tears, clasping her hands.) Witness, ye Heavens! Eternal Father, witness! I love, adore, and praise thy glorious name, I grieve, for hopes that fade,-for your lost soul, Had. O, say not so, Beloved Princess. Why distrust my faith? Tam. Thou know'st, alas, my weakness; but remember, I never, never will be thine, although The feast, the blessing, and the song were past, Though Absalom and David called me bride, Till sure thou own'st, with truth, and love sincere, Had. Leave me not-Hear, hear I do believe I know that Being lives SCENE FROM HADAD. Whom you adore. Ah! stay-by proofs I know Which Moses had not. Tam. Prince, unclasp my hand. 171 (Exit.) Had. Untwine thy fetters if thou canst.-How sweet To watch the struggling softness! It allays The beating tempest of my thoughts, and flows, THE LAST READER. BY OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. I SOMETIMES Sit beneath a tree, A tone that might have passed away, I keep them like a lock or leaf, That some dear girl has given; THE LAST READER. They lie upon my pathway bleak, The ringlets of his child; The golden mingling with the gray, What care I though the dust is spread Or o'er them his sarcastic thread Oblivion's insect weaves; Though weeds are tangled on the stream, And therefore love I such as smile On these neglected songs, Nor deem that flattery's needless wile It may be that my scanty ore Long years have washed away, Still something sparkles in the sun 173 174 THE LAST READER. And when my name no more is heard, My lyre no more is known, Still let me, like a winter's bird, In silence and alone, Fold over them the weary wing Once flashing through the dews of spring. Yes, let my fancy fondly wrap My youth in its decline, And riot in the rosy lap Of thoughts that once were mine, |