THE TWO BROTHERS. Εὕδουσα γὰρ φρὴν ὄμμασιν λαμπρύνεται. ESCH. Eum. ARE the embers smouldering, brother? Think not to revive their light. Brother, I've a tale to tell thee I can better tell at night: And their faint dun glow will glimmer till, perchance, my tale is done. List!—that dull and heavy sound-it is the church-bell pealing 'one.' Strangely through the sere elm forests come the fitful gusts of wind, Strangely on the casement beats the hollow drifting rain behind; Night broods round, a wall of darkness, such as moonbeams cannot scale, And the blessed stars are blunted like a shaft from coat of in mail. B Thirteen summers have waved round us, thirteen winters shower'd their snows, Thirteen springs danced by, and thirteen autumns pass'd like music's close, Since I witness'd gloom like this, wherein the stoutest heart would melt: Thick close darkness on our eyelids weighing—darkness that is felt. Oh, the memory of that midnight, spectre-like, within me sleeps ; If I only gaze, it rises dimly from my spirit's deeps Rises with the sere elm forests struck by fitful gusts of wind, And the hollow drifting raindrops on the casement close behind: Every wind-moan finds an echo in my moaning heart within, And the rain is not as dewdrops to a soul once scarr'd with sin. Brother, thou wert ever to me as a young and golden mist Floating through blue liquid heavens, with the morning sunlight kiss'd; Which the eye looks up and blesses, lingering on its track above, With an old familiar fondness and an earnestness of love. Brother, I to thee was ever as a storm-cloud on the hills, Lowering o'er the rocks and caverns and the laughter of the rills: Yet I've thought at times, my brother, from the sunshine of thy life, Passing rainbow gleams have fallen on my spirit-world of strife: For when every fount was wormwood, every star had ceased to shine, It was bliss in dreams to ponder how unlike thy lot to mine. Yet, in childhood, I remember how our sainted mother said Often on bright Sabbath eves, and thrice upon her dying bed That far scenes would crowd upon her, when she look'd on me and thee, In the distance, dream-like dawning, from the glorious dream-countree. |