C3

DEATH AND THE CAPTIVE.

Liberty ! Liberty! * thou hast heard

My weary prayer at length,But the plumeless wing of the captive bird

Is shorn of its buoyant strength;I am too weary now to roam

Through sun-light and the air,To bear me to my mountain home,

Or joy if I were there.

Liberty! Liberty ! thou hast been

The prayer of my burning heart,Till the silent thoughts that were within

Into life and form would start;And, oh! the glorious dreams that roll'd,

Like scenes of things that be,And voices of the night that told—

" The captive and the earth are free !"

* The author, in order, as it would appear, to avoid thealmost inevitable monotony of the subject, has represented theCaptive as at first mistaking the Vision of the King of Terrorsfor that of Liberty—the burning passionate hope of the heart,cherished through years of gloom, may well, indeed, be ima-gined to have this effect in the feverish excitement of strugglingnature.— Editor.