THE THREE MINSTRELS.
|
|
I.
|
|
Three Minstrels play within the Tower of Time,
A weird and wondrous edifice it is;
One sings of war, the martial strain sublime,
And strikes his lyre, as ’twere a foe of his;
The sword upon his thigh is dripping red
|
5 |
From a foe’s heart in the mid battle slain;
His plum’d casque is doff’d from his proud head,
His flashing eye preludes the thundrous strain. |
|
II.
|
|
Apart, sequester’d in an alcove deep,
Through which the pale moon looks propitious in,
|
10 |
Accompanied by sighs that seem to weep,
The second minstrel sadly doth begin
T’indite his mistress fair but cruel, who
Had trampled on the heart that was her own;
Or prays his harp to help him how to woe, |
15 |
And thrills with joy at each responsive tone. [Page 77] |
|
III.
|
|
Right in the porch, before which, fair and far
Plain, lake and hamlet fill the musing eye,
Gazing toward the thoughtful evening star
That seems transfixed upon the mountain high,
|
20 |
The third of Country and of Duty sings;
Slow and triumphal is the solemn strain;
Like death, he takes no heed of Chiefs or Kings,
But over all he maketh country reign. |
|
IV.
|
|
Sad Dante! he, love-led from life, who found
|
25 |
His way to Eden, and unhappy stood
Amid the angels—he, the cypress-crown’d,
Knew not the utmost gift of the public good.
Thoughts deeper and more solemn it inspires
Than even his lofty spirit dare essay; |
30 |
How then shall we, poor Emberers of old fires,
Kindle the beacons of our country’s way? |
|
V.
|
|
We all are audience in the Tower of Time;
For us alone at this hour play the three.
Choose which ye will—the martial song sublime,
|
35 |
Or lover fond; but thou my Master be,
Oh! Bard of duty and of country’s cause:
Thee will I choose and follow for my lord! [Page 78] |
|
|
