The Republican journal. [volume] (Belfast, Me.) 1829-current, 1869-06-17
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NOREMB EGA.@
ny JOHN G.. WHITTIER.

ny JOHN G. WHITTIER.
The winding way the serpent takes
The mystic water took,
From where, to count its beaded lakes,
The forest sped its brook.
4 narrow space 'twiXt shore and shore,
For sun and stars TO fall,
While evermore. behind. before,
Closed in the forest wall
The dim wood hiding underneath
Wan flowers without 4 name;
Life tangled with decay and death,
League after league the same.
lnbroken over swamp and Hill
The rounding shadow lay,
Save where the river cut at will
\ pathway to the day.
Beside the track of air and light,
Weak as child unweaned,
Al shut of day Christian knight
pom his hcnchman leaned.
The ember> OF the sunsets fires
Along the clouds burned down:
90 soe" said he. the dOme> and spires
OF Norcmbega town..
Alach. the domes. 0 master mine,
Are golden clouds on high
lon Spirc is but the branches pine
That cuts the evening sky.
o hush and bark. What sounds are these
But chants and holy hymns:'
Thou hearst the breeze that stirs the trees
Through all their leafy limbs
. Is it chapel bell that fills
The air with its low tone*'
Thou hearst the tinke of the rill>.
The insects Nesper drone."
The Christ be praised He sits for me
\ blessed cross in sight
Now, nay, us but yon blasted tree
With two gaunt arms outright,
Be it wind so sad or tree so stark,
1t mattereth not my knave;
Mcthinks to funeral hymns | bark.
The cross is for my grave.
Nv life is sped l shall not see
Ny home-set sails again;
The sweetest eyes Of NOrmande
shall watch for me in vain.
Vet onward still to ear and eye
The battling marvel calls;
fam would look before die
On Norembega'S walls.
So. haply il shall be thy part
At Christian feet to lay
he mystery Of the deserts heart
Ny dead hand pluched away.
Leave me an hour of rest; go thou
And look from yonder heights;
Perchanoe the valley even now
+ starred with city lights"
The henchmen climbed the nearest hill,
He saw no tower nor town,
But. through the drear woods, lone and still
The river rolling down.
lie heard the Stealthy feet of things
Whose shape he could not see,
\ tlutter as of evil wings,
The fall Of dead tree
The pines stood black against the moon,
4 sword of tire beyond;
He heard the wolf howl, and the loon
Laugh from his reedy pond.
He turned him back: & 0 master dear,
We are but men miSled;
And thou hast sought city here
To find grave instead
- As God shall will. what matters where
\ mans cross may stand,
50 Heaven be DER it here AS there
IN pleasant Norman land:
. These woods, perchance, no secret hide
OF lordly tower and hall;
Gon river in its Wanderings wide
Has washed no city wall;
\ ct mirrorcd in the sulen stream
The holy stars are given;
l. Norembega then dream
whose waking is i'll Heaven.
- No builled wonder of these lands
MyNeary eyes shall see:
A city never made with hands
Alone awaiteth me
e RIBS Syon mystical | see
Its mansion passing fair,
'COnd ia cnla'; let me be,
Dear Lord a dWecr there!
Above the dying exile hung
The vision Of the bard
As taltered on his failing tongue
The song Of good Bernard.
The henchmen dug at dawn grave
Beneath the bemock brown,
And to the deserts keeping gave
The lord of ticf and town.
Years after, when the Sieur Champaign
Sailed up the mystic stream,
And Norembega proved again
A shadow and dream
He found the Norman's nameless grave
Within the hemlock's shade,
And, stretching wide its arms to save,
The sign that God had made
The cross-boughed tree that marked the spot
And made il holy ground;
He needs the earthly city not,
Who hath the heavenly found