The hero hears the trump
Of victor-fame, and his high pulses leap,
But laurels dipp'd in blood shall vex his soul
When the death-ague comes. More blest is he
Who bearing on his brow the anointing oil
Keeps in his heart the humility and zeal
That sanctify his vows. So, full of joy
That fears no frost of earth, because its root
Is by the river of eternal life,
The white-hair'd Pastor took his homeward way.

* * * * *

New life upon the farm. A master's eye
And step are there. Forest, and cultured field,
And garden feel his influence. Forth at morn
He goes amid the laboring hinds who bathe
Their scythe in fragrant dew, mid all their toils
Teaching or learning, with such cheerful port
As won their hearts.
Even animals partook
His kind regard. The horse, with arching neck,
And ear erect, replied as best he might
To his caressing tones. The patient ox,
With branching horns, and the full-udder'd cow
Grew sleek and flourish'd and in happiest guise
Reveal'd his regency. The noble dog,
O'erflowing with intelligence and zeal,
Follow'd him as a friend; even the poor cat
Oft scorn'd and distanc'd, till her fawning love
Turns into abjectness, crept to his knee
Without reproof, and thro' her half-shut eyes
Regarding him, ere into sleep she sank
With song monotonous, express'd her joy.

--He loved to hear the clarion of the cock,
And see him in his gallantry protect
The brooding mothers,--of their infant charge
So fond and proud.
The generous care bestow'd
For weal and comfort of these servitors
And their mute dialect of gratitude
Pleas'd and refresh'd him, while those blessed toils
That quicken earth's fertility bestowed
The boon of healthful vigor. Bertha found
The burden of her cares securely laid
On his young arm, and gratefully beheld
Each day a portion of allotted time
Spent in the library, with earnest care,
Seeking the knowledge that in youth he scorn'd.

--Amid their rural neighborhood were some
Who frankly took him by the hand, as one,
Worthy to rise, and others who preferr'd
To cherish evil memories, or indulge
Dark auguries. But on his course he held
Unmov'd by either, for to her he seem'd
Intent and emulous alone to please
A higher Judge. When leaning on his arm
She sought the House of God, her tranquil brow
Seem'd in its time-tried beauty to express
The _Nunc Dimittis_.
Prisons are not oft
Converting place