SILENCE. WHEN the cup of hope brims over When the loved-one meets the lover When the heart is bare of gladness, And the helpless sense of ill Goads the apathy of sadness Onward, through a whirl of madness, To a darkness drear and chill, Then the palsied tongue is still. When the soul for power sigheth, All the teardrops it must spill, Then the tranced tongue is still. When two hearts that love are parted, And the props of life are started With a terror and a thrill, Then the choking tongue is still. When our souls youth's dream-chains shiver, And we leap the World's scant rill, Which had seemed a mighty river Roaring on and on forever "Tween us and Self-trust's steep hill, — Then the trembling tongue is still. 1842. O, sweet Silence! they belied thee Who have called thee vain and weak; Speech is emptiness beside thee, Joy and woe have glorified thee, All the deepest thoughts and feelings Love's first tremulous revealings, Never can be fully told, Save by thee, revered of old! A CHIPPEWA LEGEND.* ἀλγεινὰ μέν μοι καὶ λέγειν ἐστὶν τάδε ἄλγος δὲ σιγᾷν. Eschylus, Prom. Vinct. 197. THE old Chief, feeling now well-nigh his end, Called his two eldest children to his side, And gave them, in few words, his parting charge: "My son and daughter, me ye see no more; The happy hunting-grounds await me, green With change of spring and summer through the year: But, for remembrance, after I am gone, Be kind to little Sheemah for my sake: Weakling he is and young, and knows not yet To set the trap, or draw the seasoned bow; * For the leading incidents in this tale, I am indebted to the very valuable Algic Researches" of Henry R. Schoolcraft, Esq. Therefore of both your loves he hath more need, And he, who needeth love, to love hath right; It is not like our furs and stores of corn, Whereto we claim sole title by our toil, The common stock and heritage of all: Alone, beside a lake, their wigwam stood, Have seen the danger which I dared not look |