THE panther leaped to the front of his lair,
And stood with a foot up, and snuffed the air;
He quivered his tongue from his panting mouth,
And looked with a yearning towards the south;
For he scented afar in the coming breeze,
News of the gums and their blossoming trees;
And out of Armenia that same day,
He and his race come bounding away.
Over the mountains and down to the plains
Like Bacchus's panthers with wine in their veins,
They come where the woods wept odorous rains;
And there, with a quivering, every beast
Fell to his old Pamphylian feast.
The people who lived not far away, Heard the roaring on that same day;
And they said, as they lay in their carpeted rooms, The panthers are come, and are drinking the gums.
And some of them going with swords and spears,
To gather their share of the rich round tears,
The panther I spoke of followed them back;
And dumbly they let him tread close in the track,
And lured him after them into the town;
And then they let the portcullis down
And took the panther, which happened to be
The largest was seen in all Pamphily.
By every one there was the panther admired,
So fine was his shape and so sleekly attired,
And such an air, both princely and swift,
He had, when giving a sudden lift
To his mighty paw, he'd turn at a sound,
And so stand panting and looking around,
As if he attended a monarch crowned.
And truly, they wondered the more to behold
About his neck a collar of gold,
On which was written, in characters broad,
"Arsaces the king to the Nysian God."
So they tied to the collar a golden chain,
Which made the panther a captive again,
And by degrees he grew fearful and still,
As if he had lost his lordly will.
But now came the spring, when free-born love
Calls up nature in forest and grove,
And makes each thing leap forth, and be
Loving, and lovely, and blithe as he.
The panther he felt the thrill of the air,
And he gave a leap up, like that at his lair;
He felt the sharp sweetness more strengthen his veins,
Ten times than ever the spicy rains,
And ere they're aware, he has burst his chains:
He has burst his chains, and ah, ha! he's gone,
And the links and the gazers are left alone,
And off to the mountains the panther's flown.
Now what made the panther a prisoner be? Lo! 'twas the spices and luxury.
And what set that lordly panther free?
'Twas Love! - 'twas Love! -'twas no one but he.
TO A CHILD, DURING SICKNESS.
SLEEP breathes at last from out thee,
My little, patient boy;
And balmy rest about thee
Smooths off the day's annoy.
I sit me down, and think
Of all thy winning ways;
Yet almost wish, with sudden shrink,
That I had less to praise.
Thy sidelong pillowed meekness,
Thy thanks to all that aid,
Thy heart, in pain and weakness,
Of fancied faults afraid;
The little trembling hand
That wipes thy quiet tears,
These, these are things that may
Dread memories for years.
Sorrows I've had, severe ones,
I will not think of now;
And calmly, midst my dear ones,
Have wasted with dry brow;
But when thy fingers press
And pat my stooping head,
I cannot bear the gentleness, -
The tears are in their bed.
Ah, first-born of thy mother,
When life and hope were new,
Kind playmate of thy brother,
Thy sister, father too;
My light, where'er I go,
My bird, when prison-bound,
My hand in hand companion, no,
My prayers shall hold thee round.
To feel impatient-hearted,
Yet feel we must bear on ;
Ah, I could not endure
To whisper of such woe, Unless I felt this sleep ensure
That it will not be so.
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