Love or Fame | Page 9

speak
And tell me if within thy
troubled breast
A longing comes for loving care and rest.
For even

now I love thee none the less
Because thou lov'st not me; each
waving tress
Upon thy brow is still as dear to me
As sunlight to
each flower and budding tree.
One look into those eyes I love so well,

And then, dear one--a sad, a last farewell."
With that he caught her small and trembling hand;
With simple royal
grace and gesture grand,
He pressed it to his lips, then let it fall;--

His dream of love had passed beyond recall.
That touch awakened all her woman's love,
Her heart responded to
his silent cry;
As flowers love the strong, brave sun above,
She
loved this man nor ever questioned why.
Before this night no doubts
had come between
To mar its trust or stir its depths serene.
Oh!
blessed is that love and faith indeed,
Which knows no doubt but only
feels its need;
That unsought love which comes and fills the breast

Because we cannot help--that is the best.
With soft caressing touch unto his own
She pressed her hand, then
backward swept the hair
Whose shining wreath around her form was
thrown;
Her darkened eyes with pleading, troubled air
Looked up
into his own; she seemed a child
Beside his strength, yet through his
form a shiver
Ran, and to his lips there came a painful quiver,
That
told too well the stormy passion wild
This childlike girl had wakened
this hour.
Its might swept o'er his soul with fearful power--
He
dared not move--a silence strange and deep
Fell o'er them both, as
some half-waking sleep.
To lose her! ah! the fearful, madd'ning thought,
Unto a wilder grief
his soul it wrought;
With desperate pride he wrestled with his pain

Lest she should see it in his face again.
But ah! what slender chain of
love is this
That can be broken with a last warm kiss!
With longing eyes she stood there by his side,
Her looks fixed on the
ocean's tireless tide,
Then gazed down on the robes that swept her

feet;
His searching eyes she dared not, could not meet;
And why?
within her own the dark tears stood,
True signs of weak and loving
womanhood.
At last she put aside her love's young dream,
And all the brighter did
its glory seem
Because it must be banished from her heart.
They
stood so near, and yet how far apart--
A gulf had come between them,
vast and wide,
A gulf made by her longing, restless pride.
With low and trembling voice at last she said
With sadly falling tears
and bended head:
"Oh! Adrian, my faint heart fain would dwell
Forever here beneath
thy love's dear spell;
But ah! beyond the height where breaks the day,

There lives a charm that calls my soul away.
Afar the mountains
glow in pale, blue mist,
By fleecy clouds and summer sunshine kissed.

And see! beyond them all I long to be,
Beyond this shore, beyond
the trackless sea.
Ah! this is why, dear Adrian, we must part,

Although it rends my grieving, restless heart;
Forgive me if to-night
I've caused thee pain--
If grief be thine, forgive me once again.

Farewell! when from thy life my love is fled,
Henceforth to thee let
Hilda's name be dead."
And this was all--vague shadows crept around,
The waves sung in his
ears their moaning sound;
He looked in vain for Hilda's dear, sweet
face,
Forevermore was lost her loving grace
To him. In vain he
called forth in despair;
His words returned upon the empty air.
Like
some pale spirit she had stolen from him
And left him there 'mid
shadows dark and grim.
Part III.
Fame.
Oh what is fame! a flower that dies at eve,
A golden mist that subtle
fancies weave,
An unknown star that wise men never see,
An idle
dream of things that may not be.
Farewell to peace when once the

dreams of fame
Shall stir the soul into a restless flame.
There is no
rest by day, no sleep by night;
The eyes are blinded by the dazzling
light.
Ah! woe to him who first espies the star,
It hath the power his
life to make or mar.
Amid the sombre draperies of the sky,
The faintly-gleaming stars
half-hidden lie;
Upon Night's bending head a hood of snow
Seems
weighing it unto the earth below;
With gentle frowns she shakes her
sable hair
And sends the snow-flakes whirling through the air.
And
soon a soft, thick mantle, pure and white,
Gives to the earth a new
and holy light.
While with a thousand lamps the city glows
As if
encircled with a diadem;
Each lamp transformed into a sparkling gem,

That o'er the earth its flickering splendor throws.
Paris, that
brilliant city, gleams to-night
With glittering lights that hide her
ghastly woes;
In mockery she's robed in bridal white,
Though in her
heart a tide of crimson flows.
The city is aglow with wealth and pride;
A gilded hall is thronged
from side to side
With fashion's train of beauteous dames, who smile

And gaily, archly chat the happy while
With gallant men who
smile on them again.
All seems forgotten--want and weary pain

That fill the earth with all their drear distress;
Yet many a heart
beneath the silken