DARK chieftain of the heath and height! Wild feaster on the hills by night! See'st thou the stormy sunset's glow Flung back by glancing spears below? Now for one strife of stern despair! The foe hath tracked thee to thy lair. Thou, against whom the voice of blood Hath risen from rock and lonely wood; And in whose dreams a moan should be Not of the water, nor the tree; Haply thine own last hour is nigh, -- Yet shalt thou not forsaken die. There's one that pale beside thee stands, More true than all thy mountain bands! She will not shrink in doubt and dread When the balls whistle round thy head: Nor leave thee, though thy closing eye No longer may to hers reply. Oh! many a soft and quiet grace Hath faded from her form and face; And many a thought, the fitting guest Of woman's meek, religious breast, Hath perished in her wanderings wide, Through the deep forests, by thy side. Yet, mournfully surviving all, A flower upon a ruin's wall -- A friendless thing, whose lot is cast Of lovely ones to be the last -- Sad, but unchanged through good and @3ill@1. Thine is her lone devotion still. And oh! not wholly lost the heart Where that undying love hath part; Not worthless all, though far and long From home estranged, and guided wrong; Yet may its depths by heaven be stirred, Its prayer for thee be poured and heard! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BELLE OF THE BALL by WINTHROP MACKWORTH PRAED KEEPING ENDLESS HOLIDAY by TITUS PETRONIUS NIGER TO A COUNTRY HOTEL TOWEL by ELMER CLEVELAND ADAMS BE STILL, MY SOUL by ARCHILOCHUS THE PLAYERS by FRANCIS LAWRENCE BICKLEY INSPIRATION by GRACE HOLBROOK BLOOD |