Mysterious Spirit! hark! I hear thee voicing, Up where the wind-breath woos thee, with its tone Of mingled mournfulness and strange rejoicing— As though ’twould fear thee, yet to love were prone. What doth it whisper ’mid the green tree’s shading? Or art thou trembling, not with hope but ire? Chid’st thou its love? Or is it thee upbraiding With thine inconstant tongue of living fire? Is it some life-tale thou art subtly telling? Some tale of dark and passionate romance— That the young leaflets seem with wonder swelling, Shrink at thy touch, and eye thee so askance? Or are they timid only with emotion? And pout their tiny lips up but for show, O’er some new story of the heart’s devotion, That thou art murmuring to the earth below? Or, ravished from the grasp of Time and Distance, Com’st thou with News, to gift, with sudden joy, The sad heart with a sense of fresh existence— Making the old man feel once more a boy? Or bear’st thou words to soothe not, but to sunder? Quietly rupturing the holiest ties— Just as the lightning’s flash, without its thunder, Blasts what it looks on with its venomous eyes! Or is’t, oh, Captive One! thy life-voice fretting, That, like a caged-bird wrested from its home, (Thy fluttering wing its sky paths unforgetting,) Along thy prison-wires such murmurs come? I hear thee now! And chafing, ah, how vainly! For they have chained the death-glance of thine eye— Sightless as Samson—struggling more insanely— Thou couldst not if thou wouldst, lie down and die! * * * * * CAIUS MARIUS AMIDST THE RUINS OF CARTHAGE. A SKETCH FROM HISTORY. BY W. GILMORE SIMMS, AUTHOR OF “GUY RIVERS,” “THE YEMASSEE,” “RICHARD HURDIS,” &c. _The Dungeon of Minturnæ._ MARIUS. THE CIMBRIAN. Marius. What art thou, wretch, that in the darkness com’st, The midnight of this prison, with sly step, Most fit for the assassin, and bared dagger Gleaming in thy lifted grasp! Cimbrian. I am sent by those Whose needs demand thy death. A single stroke Sets us both free forever—thou from Fate, Me from Captivity. Marius. Slave, hast thou the heart To strike at that of Marius! Cimbrian. That voice! that name Disarm me; and those fearful eyes that roll Like red stars in the darkness, fill my soul With awe that stays my hand. Master of the world, The conqueror of my people hast thou been! I know thee as a Fate! I cannot harm thee.