On this page
- Departments (1)
-
Text (3)
-
178 uisr convoi.
-
XXVIII.—UN CON-yOL*
-
^p Que la cloche, ce soir dans les airs ...
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software. The text has not been manually corrected and should not be relied on to be an accurate representation of the item.
-
-
Transcript
-
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software. The text has not been manually corrected and should not be relied on to be an accurate representation of the item.
Additionally, when viewing full transcripts, extracted text may not be in the same order as the original document.
«¦ " D^Mophoon ! Deniophoon!" Mount Rhod...
" Higher still , and ever higher , Darts the lambent forked flame ,
Bards yet unborn shall strike the lyre To chant poor Phyllis' requiem . ''
Too late her lover gains the strand ; " Too late , " each murmuring leaflet sighs ;
j _&^ o eager step—no outstretched hand- — " Too late , " the whispering breeze replies .
But , lo , what miracle divine ? What vision meets his startled eye ?
Has gracious Jove vouchsafed a sign , A token love can never die ?
From Phyllis' mouldering ashes springs A lithe and graceful almond tree ;
Aloft its leafless arms it flings , As praying _fieaven beseechingly .
He clasps the trunk in fond embrace , As once her form in happier hours ;
A roseate blush from tip to base Bursts forth in wreaths of perfumed flowers .
And ever as sweet spring returns , She throbs again with passion ' s thrill ,
And ever with each waning year She weeps for joys remembered still .
While Love , when crowned with Joy , must fade , Hers will through endless years abide ;
While every almond tree repeats , How well she loved , and grieved , and died !
B » Gr . H .
178 Uisr Convoi.
178 uisr _convoi .
Xxviii.—Un Con-Yol*
XXVIII . —UN _CON-yOL * - ¦ ¦ ¦¦ ' +.
^P Que La Cloche, Ce Soir Dans Les Airs ...
_^ _p Que la cloche , ce soir dans les airs balancee , Rend un lugubre accord ! .
Sa languissante voix vibre dans ma pensee Comme un appel de mort .
Voici que le soleil , pour la vague profonde Delaissant l'horizon ,
Comme un doux : " au revoir ! " au front vieilli du monde Jette un dernier rayon .
* These verses are from the pen of Madame _Pape-Carpentier , a French to lad our y , whose readers works but of whose practical fine benevolence and delicate genius we shall would , before have long assured , introduce her
respect honors as an artist , , had she been less . " ¦ absorbed in labors ¦ which command
-
-
Citation
-
English Woman’s Journal (1858-1864), May 1, 1861, page 178, in the Nineteenth-Century Serials Edition (2008; 2018) ncse.ac.uk/periodicals/ewj/issues/ewj_01051861/page/34/
-