Virgin Mother, Mary mild! It was thine to see the child, Gift of the Messiah dove, Pure blossom of ideal love, Break, upon the "guilty cross," The seeming promise of his life; Of faith, of hope, of love, a loss, Deepened all thy, bosom's strife, Brow down-bent, and heart-strings torn, Fainting, by frail arms upborne. All those startled figures show, That they did not apprehend The thought of Him who there lies low, On whom those sorrowing eyes they bend. They do not feel this holiest hour; Their hearts soar not to read the power, Which this deepest of distress Alone could give to save and bless. Soul of that fair, now ruined form, Thou who hadst force to bide the storm, Must again descend to tell Of thy life the hidden spell; Though their hearts within them burned, The flame rose not till he returned. Just so all our dead ones lie; Just so call our thoughts on high; Thus we linger on the earth, And dully miss death's heavenly birth. THE CAPTURED WILD HORSE.[46] On the boundless plain careering, By an unseen compass steering, Wildly flying, reappearing,-- With untamed fire their broad eyes glowing, In every step a grand pride showing, Of no servile moment knowing,-- Happy as the trees and flowers, In their instinct cradled hours, Happier in fuller powers,-- See the wild herd nobly ranging, Nature varying, not changing, Lawful in their lawless ranging. But hark! what boding crouches near? On the horizon now appear Centaur-forms of force and fear. On their enslaved brethren borne, With bit and whip of tyrant scorn, To make new captives, as forlorn. Wildly snort the astonished throng, Stamp, and wheel, and fly along, Those centaur-powers they know are strong. But the lasso, skilful cast, Holds one only captive fast, Youngest, weakest--left the last. How thou trembledst then, Konick! Thy full breath came short and thick, Thy heart to bursting beat so quick; Thy strange brethren peering round, By those tyrants held and bound, Tyrants fell,--whom falls confound! With rage and pity fill thy heart; Death shall be thy chosen part, Ere such slavery tame thy heart. But strange, unexpected joy! They seem to mean thee no annoy-- Gallop off both man and boy. Let the wild horse freely go! Almost he shames it should be so; So lightly prized himself to know. All deception 'tis, O steed! Ne'er again upon the mead Shalt thou a free wild horse feed. The mark of man doth blot thy side, The fear of man doth dull thy pride, Thy master soon shall on thee ride. Thy brethren of the free plain, Joyful speeding back again, With proud career and flowing mane,