Wisconsin herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1846-1849, 1848-05-06
UPWARD ONWARD.
Nv


IS Nv. "
The sun was setting in the West
And forest trees and hills were drest
With the las, mellow, trembling ray
That orb casts Ger the dying day!
B And where was Charles, and where Estelle:
And what the fate which them befel!
Meath southern skies where olives bloom,
And spices yield their rich perfume,
Where sunny streams to ocean flow
And bright stars in the heavens glow
Where on the wings of every hour
The song of bird and breath Of flower
Falls on the ear and fans the brow
With fervered brain and pulseless hand,
The lover lies on deaths couch now,
A stranger in foreign land; I
And dark-eyed maids are round him there
And roses strewn upon his pillow
Low strains of music on the air,
Rise like the swell Of Ocean billow,
And where Estelle' In yonder room
Secured by lock and bolt The bloom
Had left her cheek, her sunken eye,
Was witness of the awful doom,
She suffered as the hours passed by.
Thrice had the earth around the sun,
Its yearly course unweared run;
Thrice had the spring with sun and showers
Clothed field and lawn with robes of flowers
Since she and Charles together met
By moonlight in the garden walks,
When plant and flower with dew were wet
And dropping hung around the stalks;
That night, beneath the lilac tree
Her father saw the lovers meet;
That night--the last that she was free!
Next morn the sun arose to greet
prisoner in her chamber cell.
There as the months slow rolled around
Her sire doomed the fair Estelle
To weep captive, lone and bound;
Slow wore the heavy hours away,
No rest by night-no joy by day,
Nor sound of song, nor laugh is heard
Her aching heart breathes not a word.
V.
IT'S morn! The sun is bright, and cloudless
skies
Look down upon world below,
Whose busy hum doth upward rise
With blended notes of joy and woe;
IT'S morn. Yet all is dark to one
Around her rests an endless night,
No smiling sky, nor glowing sun
Burst on the soul with beams of light!
Those three long years in prison passed
Have withered health and beauty's
bloom,
And reasons light was quenched at last
In darkness in that living tomb
The bolts were loosed-she wandered forth
In sorrow and in doubt to roam
From East to West, from South to North,
Needless of sire and of home!
The night dews wet each raven tress,
The rough winds chafed her sunken
cheek,
The ground her throbbing temples pressed,
When wearied nature sunk in sleep.
vi.
"This life's dream'' some one hath writ;
If so, it seems to me 'twere fit,
This dream should break in deep midnight,
When cloudless moon and starry light,
Are mellowed TO mider ray,
Than beams that gid the noon Of day.
When in the deep and lonely wood.
No men with evil passions brood,
When evening winds are sunk to rest
And waves sleep on the waters breast
When gentle dews distil in showers.
Upon the thirsty, dropping flowers
What hour than this, more fit would seem
For waking out from life's dull dream.
And far away mid shining spheres,
Begin that life which knows no years?
Twas such night and such an hour
When pale Estelle came TO the bower
Where years before in health and youth
She plighted with young Charles her truth;
Her dress was soIed, and torn with wear
Ard faded roses decked her hair;
Her followed cheeks and sunken eyes
The heaving breast and low breathed signs
Rung on the night solemn knell
For her---ihe faded, young Estelle!
But IN that bower in other years.
When she had smiles instead Of tears.
When Charles was seated by her side,
And she had hoped to be his bride.
Her voice was often raised IN song,
As flew those happy hours along:
Now on the still and heavy air
The trembling voice Of Es;eIle rings;
And from the lonely bower there