280 BINGEN ON THE RHINE. Glide on in your beauty, ye youthful spheres, The boundless, visible smile of Him, To the veil of whose brow your lamps are dim! BINGEN ON THE RHINE. MRS. E. C. NORTON. A SOLDIER of the Legion lay dying in Algiers ; There was lack of woman's nursing, there was dearth of woman's tears; But a comrade stood beside him, while his life-blood ebbed away, And bent, with pitying glances, to hear what he might say. The dying soldier faltered, as he took that comrade's hand, And he said, "I never more shall see my own, my native land: Take a message and a token to some distant friends of mine; For I was born at Bingen, - at Bingen on the Rhine. "Tell my brothers and companions, when they meet and crowd around, To hear my mournful story, in the pleasant vineyardground, BINGEN ON THE RHINE. 281 That we fought the battle bravely, and, when the day was done, Full many a corse lay ghastly pale beneath the setting sun; And mid the dead and dying were some grown old The death-wound on their gallant breasts, the last of many scars; And some were young, and suddenly beheld life's morn decline, And one had come from Bingen, — fair Bingen on the Rhine. "Tell my mother that her other son shall comfort her old age; For I was still a truant bird, that thought his home a cage; For my father was a soldier, and even as a child My heart leaped forth to hear him tell of struggles fierce and wild; And when he died, and left us to divide his scanty hoard, I let them take whate'er they would, father's sword; - but kept my And with boyish love I hung it where the bright light used to shine, On the cottage wall at Bingen, - calm Bingen on the Rhine. "Tell my sister not to weep for me, and sob with drooping head, When the troops come marching home again, with glad and gallant tread, 282 BINGEN ON THE RHINE. But to look upon them proudly, with a calm and steadfast eye, For her brother was a soldier, too, and not afraid to die; And if a comrade seek her love, I ask her in my name, To listen to him kindly, without regret or shame, And to hang the old sword in its place (my father's sword and mine), For the honor of old Bingen, — dear Bingen on the Rhine. "There's another. - not a sister; in the happy days gone by You'd have known her by the merriment that sparkled in her eye; Too innocent for coquetry, — too fond for idle scorn O, friend! I fear the lightest heart makes sometimes heaviest mourning! Tell her the last night of my life (for ere the moon be risen, My body will be out of pain, my soul be out of prison) I dreamed I stood with her, and saw the yellow sunlight shine On the vine-clad hills of Bingen, - sweet Bingen on the Rhine. "I saw the blue Rhine sweep along, I heard, seemed to hear, and clear; or The German songs we used to sing in chorus sweet BINGEN ON THE RHINE. 283 And down the pleasant river, and up the slanting hill, The echoing chorus sounded through the evening calm and still; And her glad blue eyes were on me, as we passed with friendly talk, Down many a path beloved of yore, and well-remembered walk! And her little hand lay lightly, confidingly in mine, But we meet no more at Bingen, — loved Bingen on the Rhine." His trembling voice grew faint and hoarse, — his grasp was childish weak, His eyes put on a dying look, - he sighed, and ceased to speak; His comrade bent to lift him, but the spark of life had fled, The soldier of the Legion in a foreign land was dead! And the soft moon rose up slowly, and calmly she looked down On the red sand of the battle-field, with bloody corses strewn ; Yes, calmly on that dreadful scene her pale light seemed to shine, As it shone on distant Bingen,- fair Bingen on the Rhine. 284 LOVE. LOVE. JEAN INGELOW. From "Songs of Seven." I LEANED Out of window, I smelt the white clover, Dark, dark was the garden, I saw not the gate; 16 Now, if there be footsteps, he comes, my one lover Hush, nightingale, hush! O, sweet nightingale, wait Till I listen and hear If a step draweth near; · For my love, he is late! "The skies in the darkness stoop nearer and nearer, Let the sweet waters flow, And cross quickly to me. "You night-moths that hover where honey brims over From sycamore blossoms, or settle, or sleep; You glow-worms, shine out, and the pathway discover |