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THE VAUDOIS' WIFE.
THE VAUDOIS' WIFE.'
Clasp me a little longer, on the brink
Of fate! while I can feel thy dear caress :
And let it mitigate thy woe's excess —
That thou to me hast been all tenderness,
Oh! by that retrospect of happiness,
Gertrude of Wyoming.
Thy voice is in mine ear, beloved !
Thy look is in my heart,
And yet I must depart.
Too precious is its chain,
Yet vain-though mighty —vain!
Thou seest mine eye grow dim, beloved !
Thou seest my life-blood flow.–
And calmly let me go!
The wife of a Vaudois leader, in one of the attacks made on the Protestant hamlets, received a mortal wound, and died in her husband's arms, exhorting him to courage and endurance. A little while between our hearts
The shadowy gulf must lie,
Still, still Eternity!
Alas! thy tears are on my cheek,
My spirit they detain;
Is wrung that burning rain.
The bitter conflict, lessOh! sad it is, and yet a joy,
To feel thy love's excess!
But calm thee! Let the thought of death
A solemn peace restore!
Would speak to thee once more,
Through years of after lifeA token of consoling love,
Even from this hour of strife.
I bless thee for the noble heart,
The tender, and the true,
That e'er fond woman's knew;
For my own, my treasured share,
In thy sorrow, in thy prayer.
THE VAUDOIS' WIFE.
I bless thee for kind looks and words
Shower'd on my path like dew,
A gladness ever new!
But in kindly tones of cheer;
My soul hath tasted here!
I bless thee for the last rich boon
Won from affection tried,
To perish by thy side!
Even to these moments given-
The trust of mine to Heaven ?
Now be thou strong? Oh! knew we not
Our path must lead to this ?
Were mingled with our bliss !
Were dark upon the sky,
To suffer and to die !
Be strong! I leave the living voice
Of this, my martyr'd blood,
With the torrent's foaming flood, -
A spirit 'midst the caves to dwell,
A token on the air,
The fainting from despair.
Hear it, and bear thou on, my love!
Ay, joyously endure !
Inviolate and pure;
With the worship of the freeFarewell! there's but one pang in death,
One only,- leaving thee!
Let us make medicine of this great revenge,
My battle-vow !-- no minster walls
Gave back the burning word,
Of smother'd vengeance heard ;
Thrill'd as it sternly rose, With the mingling voice of blood that shook
The midnight's dark repose.
THE GUERILLA LEADER'S vow.
I breathed it not o'er kingly tombs,
But where my children lay,
Soar'd from their precious clay.
I kiss'd their lips—I pour’d,
My spirit on my sword.
The roof-tree fall'n, the smouldering floor,
The blacken'd threshold-stone,
Whose fountain was my own:
Bore witness that wild night; Before them rose th' avenger's soul,
In crush'd affection's might.
The stars, the searching stars of heaven,
With keen looks would upbraid,
Sear'd on it then, could fade.
That by my paths have swept,
How hath my faith been kept?
And other eyes are on my soul,
That never, never close,
They leave me no repose.