Herbert, Edith

Her. The voice of my own Edith! Can such joyLight up this place of death! And do I feelThy breath of love once more upon my cheek,And the soft floating of thy gleamy hair,My blessed Edith? Oh, so pale! so changed!My flower, my blighted flower! thou that wert madeFor the kind fostering of sweet, summer airs,How hath the storm been with thee? Lay thy headOn this true breast again, my gentle one!And tell me all.

Ed. Yes! take me to thy heart,For I am weary, weary! Oh! that heart!The kind, the brave, the tender!--how my soulHath sicken’d in vain yearnings for the balmOf rest on that warm heart!--full, deep repose!One draught of dewy stillness after storm!And God hath pitied me, and I am here--Yet once before I die.

Her. They cannot slayOne young, and meek, and beautiful as thou,My broken lily! Surely the long daysOf the dark cell have been enough for thee!Oh! thou shalt live, and raise thy gracious headYet in calm sunshine.

Ed. Herbert! I have castThe snare of proferr’d mercy from my soul,This very hour. God to the weak hath givenVictory o’er life and death. The tempter’s priceHath been rejected--Herbert, I must die.

Her. O Edith! Edith! I, that led thee firstFrom the old path wherein thy fathers trod--I, that received it as an angel’s task,To pour the fresh light on thine ardent soul,Which drank it as a sunflower--I have beenThy guide to death.

Ed. To heaven! my guide to heaven,My noble and my blessed! Oh! look up,Be strong, rejoice, my Herbert! But for thee,How could my spirit have sprung up to GodThrough the dark cloud which o’er its vision hung,The night of fear and error?--thy dear handFirst raised that veil, and show’d the glorious worldMy heritage beyond. Friend! love, and friend!It was as if thou gavest me mine own soulIn those bright days! Yes! a new earth and heaven,And a new sense for all their splendours born--These were thy gifts; and shall I not rejoiceTo die, upholding their immortal worth,Even for thy sake? Yes! fill’d with nobler lifeBy thy pure love, made holy to the truth,Lay me upon the altar of thy God,The first fruits of thy ministry below--Thy work, thine own!

Her. My love, my sainted love!Oh! I can almost yield thee unto heaven;Earth would but sully thee! Thou must depart,With the rich crown of thy celestial giftsUntainted by a breath. And yet, alas!Edith! what dreams of holy happiness,Even for this world, were ours!--the low sweet home,The pastoral dwelling, with its ivied porch,And lattice gleaming through the leaves--and thouMy life’s companion! Thou, beside my hearth,Sitting with thy meek eyes, or greeting meBack from brief absence with thy bounding step,In the green meadow-path, or by my sideKneeling--thy calm uplifted face to mine,In the sweet hush of prayer! And now--oh, now!--How have we loved--how fervently! how long!And this to be the close!

Ed. Oh! bear me upAgainst the unutterable tendernessOf earthly love, my God!--in the sick hourOf dying human hope, forsake me not!Herbert, my Herbert! even from that sweet homeWhere it had been too much of ParadiseTo dwell with thee--even thence the oppressor’s handMight soon have torn us; or the touch of deathMight one day there have left a widow’d heart,Pining alone. We will go hence, beloved!To the bright country where the wicked ceaseFrom troubling, where the spoiler hath no sway;Where no harsh voice of worldliness disturbsThe Sabbath-peace of love. We will go hence,Together with our wedded souls, to heaven:No solitary lingering, no cold void,No dying of the heart! Our lives have beenLovely through faithful love, and in our deathsWe will not be divided.

Her. Oh! the peaceOf God is lying far within thine eyes,Far underneath the mist of human tearsLighting those blue, still depths, and sinking thenceOn my worn heart. Now am I girt with strength,Now I can bless thee, my true bride for heaven!

Ed. And let me bless thee, Herbert!--in this hourLet my soul bless thee with prevailing might!Oh! thou hast loved me nobly! thou didst takeAn orphan to thy heart--a thing unprizedAnd desolate; and thou didst guard her there,That lone and lowly creature, as a pearlOf richest price; and thou didst fill her soulWith the high gifts of an immortal wealth.I bless, I bless thee! Never did thine eyeLook on me but in glistening tenderness,My gentle Herbert! Never did thy voiceBut in affection’s deepest music speakTo thy poor Edith! Never was thy heartAught but the kindliest sheltering home to mine,My faithful, generous Herbert! Woman’s peaceNe’er on a breast so tender and so trueReposed before. Alas! thy showering tearsFall fast upon my cheek--forgive, forgive!I should not melt thy noble strength awayIn such an hour.

Her. Sweet Edith, no! my heartWill fail no more. God bears me up through thee,And by thy words, and by thy heavenly lightShining around thee, through thy very tears,Will yet sustain me! Let us call on Him!Let us kneel down, as we have knelt so oft,Thy pure cheek touching mine, and call on Him,Th’ all-pitying One, to aid.Oh, look on us,Father above!--in tender mercy lookOn us, thy children!--through th’ o’ershadowing cloudOf sorrow and mortality, send aid--Save, or we perish! We would pour our livesForth as a joyous offering to thy truth;But we are weak--we, the bruised reeds of earth,Are sway’d by every gust. Forgive, O God!The blindness of our passionate desires,The fainting of our hearts, the lingering thoughtsWhich cleave to dust! Forgive the strife; acceptThe sacrifice, though dim with mortal tears,From mortal pangs wrung forth! And if our souls,In all the fervent dreams, the fond excess,Of their long-clasping love, have wander’d not,Holiest! from thee--oh! take them to thyself,After the fiery trial--take them homeTo dwell, in that imperishable bondBefore thee link’d, for ever. Hear!--thro’ HimWho meekly drank the cup of agony,Who pass’d through death to victory, hear and save!Pity us, Father! we are girt with snares:Father in Heaven! we have no help but thee.Is thy soul strengthen’d, my beloved one?O Edith! couldst thou lift up thy sweet voice,And sing me that old solemn-breathing hymnWe loved in happier days--the strain which tellsOf the dread conflict in the olive shade?

He knelt, the Saviour knelt and pray’d,When but his Father’s eyeLook’d through the lonely garden’s shadeOn that dread agony;The Lord of all above, beneath,Was bow’d with sorrow unto death.

The sun set in a fearful hour,The stars might well grow dim,When this mortality had powerSo to o’ershadow Him!That He who gave man’s breath, might knowThe very depths of human woe.

He proved them all!--the doubt, the strife,The faint perplexing dread,The mists that hang o’er parting life,All gather’d round his head;And the Deliverer knelt to pray--Yet pass’d it not, that cup, away!

It pass’d not--though the stormy waveHad sunk beneath his tread;It pass’d not--though to Him the graveHad yielded up its dead.But there was sent him from on HighA gift of strength for man to die.

And was the Sinless thus besetWith anguish and dismay?How may we meet our conflict yet,In the dark, narrow way?Through Him--through Him that path who trod.--Save, or we perish, Son of God!Hark, hark! the parting signal.

Fare thee well!O thou unutterably loved, farewell!Let our hearts bow to God!

Her. One last embrace--On earth the last! We have eternityFor love’s communion yet! Farewell!--farewell!

’Tis o’er!--the bitterness of death is past!