It gave new strength, and fearless mood; And gladiators, fierce and rude, Mingled it in their daily food; And he who battled and subdued, Then in Life's goblet freely press New light and strength they give! And he who has not learned to know How bitter are the drops of woe, He has not learned to live. The prayer of Ajax was for light; Through all that dark and desperate fight, The blackness of that noonday night, He asked but the return of sight, To see his foeman's face. Let our unceasing, earnest prayer Be, too, for light, for strength to bear Our portion of the weight of care, That crushes into dumb despair One half the human race. O suffering, sad humanity! Patient, though sorely tried! I pledge you in this cup of grief, Where floats the fennel's bitter leaf! The Battle of our Life is brief, The alarm, the struggle, the relief, Then sleep we side by side. MAIDENHOOD. MAIDEN! with the meek, brown eyes, In whose orbs a shadow lies Like the dusk in evening skies! Thou whose locks outshine the sun, Golden tresses, wreathed in one, As the braided streamlets run! Standing, with reluctant feet, Gazing, with a timid glance, On the brooklet's swift advance, On the river's broad expanse! Deep and still, that gliding stream Beautiful to thee must seem, As the river of a dream. Then why pause with indecision, When bright angels in thy vision Beckon thee to fields Elysian? Seest thou shadows sailing by, Hearest thou voices on the shore, That our ears perceive no more, Deafened by the cataract's roar? |