Green-Mountain freeman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1844-1884, 1868-07-08
gastry.
Isabella Of Austria.
BY JOHN G. WHITTIER.

isabella, Infanta of Parma and consort o
Austria, predicted her death, Immediately
after her marriag e with the Emperor. Amidst
the gayety and splendor of Vienna and Pres
burg she was reserved and melancholy; she
believed that heaven had given her view Of the
future. and that her child, the namesake o
the great Maria Theresa, would perish with
her. Her prediction was fulfilled
Midst the palace bowers of Hungary-impe
rial Presburghs pride.
With the noble-born and beautiful assembled
at her side,
She stood beneath the summer-heaven-the
soft winds signing on.
Stirring the green and arching boughs, like
dancers in the
The beautiful pOmegranate gold, the snowy
orange bloom
The lotus and the creeping vine, the roses
meek perfume;
The wIlow-crossing with its green some
statues golden hair
All that might charm tn exquisite sense, or
light the soul, was there
But shea monarch's treasured one-leaned
gloOmily apart,
With her dark eyes cast down and shadow
on her heart,
Young, beautiful, and dearly-lOved, what
sorrow hath she known?
Arc not the hearts and swords of all held
sacred ms her own?
Is not her lord the kingliest in battlefield or
bower
The foremost in the council-hall, or at the
banquet hour?
Is not his love pure and deep as his own
Danube's tide?
And wherefore, in her princely home weeps
Isabel, his bride?
She raised her jeweled hand and flung her
yelling tresses back
Bathing It's snowy tapering within their glossy
black
a tear fell on the orange leaves-rich gem
and mimic blossom,
And friugcI robe shook fearfully upon her
signing bosom
Smile on she murmured low, - for all is
joy around,
Shadow and sunshine, stainless sky, soft airs,
and blOssomed ground,
lis meet the light of heart should smile
when nature brow is fair,
And melody and fragrance meet, twain sisters
Of the air.
8. But ask me not to share with you the
beauty of the scene
The fountain-fall, mosaic walk, and tasselled
green
And point not to the mild blue sky, glo-
riOus summer sun;
! know how very fair is all the hand of God
hath done
The hills, thesky. the sunlit cloud, the foun-
tain ledpIng forth,
The swayIng trees, the scented flowers, the
dark green robes of Garth
love them still yet / have learned to turn
aside from all,
And nevermOre my heart must own their
sweet but fatal thrall
g And could love the noble ono whose mighty
name bear,
And closer to my bursting heart his hallowed
image wear
And could watch our sweet young flower,
unfolding day by day,
And taste of that unearthly bliss which moth
ers only, may;
But no [ may not cling TO earth-that
voice IL my ear.
That shadow fingers by my side-the death
wall and the bier,
The cold and starless mig ht of death, whose
day may never beam,
The silence and the loathsomeness, the sleep
which hath no dream.
"Oh God TO leave this fair bright world,
and more than all to know
The moment when the spectral One shall
deal his fearful blow
To know the day, the very hour to feel the
tue EOll on
To shudder at the gloom before, and weep
the sunshine gone
To count the days, the few short days of
light and life and breath
Between me and the noisome grave-the
voiceless home of death
Alas if, knowing, feeling this. / murmur
at my doom,
Let not thy frowning, o my God lend dark
ness to the tomb.
90 | have borne my spirit up, and smiled
amid the chill
Remembrance of my certain doom, which lin
gers with me still
1 would not cloud my fair child's brow, nor
let a tear-drop dim
The eye that met my welded lords, lest it
should sadden him.
But there are moments when the gush of
feeling hath its way;
That hidden tide of unnamed woe. nor fear,
nor love may stay,
Smile on, smile on, light-hearted ones, your
sun Of JOY is high;
Smile on, and leave the doomed of Heaven
alone to weep and die. -
mas holy pile;
A coffin with its gorgeous pail was borne
along the aisle,
The banners of n kingly waved high
above the dead
A mighty band of mourners came-a king
at its head;
A youthful king, with mournful tread and
dim and fearful eye,
He had not dreamed that one so pure as his
fair bride could die;
And sad and wild above the the throng the
funeral anthem rung;
Mourn for the hope of Austria, mourn for
the loved and young
The wall went up from other Landslide val
lies of the Hun;
Fair Parma with its orange bowers and hills
of vine and sun;
The lilies of Imperial France droop'd as the
sound went by,
The long lament of cIoister d Spain was min
gled with the cry,
The jewellers in Colorno's halls, the slowak
in his cave,
The bow d at the Escurial, the Magyar sternly
brave
All wept the early stricken flower, and burst
from every tongue
IS Mourn for the dark-eyed Isabel-mourn for
the loved and young.