A mightier one and stronger may stand where thou wast tried, Yet he shall be the wiser that thou hast lived and died; Thy greatness be his glory, thine errors let him shun, And let him finish nobly what thou hast left undone. Farewell! The granite mountains, the hill-side, and the sea, Thy harvest-fields and orchards, will all lament for thee! Farewell! A mighty nation awards thee deathless fame, And future generations shall honor WEBSTER’S name! THE PARTING OF SIGURD AND GERDA. “He is a strong, proud man, such as a woman might, with pride, call her partner--‘if only--O! if he would but understand her nature, and allow it to be worth something.’”--_See Miss Bremer’s “Brothers and Sisters.”_ She stood beneath the moonlight pale, With calm, uplifted eye, While all her being, weak and frail, Thrilled with her purpose high; For she, the long affianced bride, Must seal the fount of tears, And break, with woman’s lofty pride, The plighted faith of years. Ay! she had loved as in a dream, And woke, at length, to find How coldly on her spirit gleamed The dazzling light of mind. For little was the true, deep love Of that pure spirit known To him, the cold, the selfish one, Who claimed her as his own. And what to him were all her dreams Of purer, holier life? Such idle fancies ill became A meek, submissive wife. And what were all her yearnings high For God and “Fatherland” But vain chimeras, lofty flights, While Sigurd held her hand? And then uprose the bitter thought, “Why bow to his control? Why sacrifice, before his pride, The freedom of my soul? Better to break the golden chain, And live and love apart, Than feel the galling, grinding links Wearing upon my heart.” He came,--and, with a soft, low voice, In the pale gleaming light, She laid her gentle hand in his-- “Sigurd, we part to-night. Long have these bitter words been kept Within this heart of mine, And often have I lonely wept,-- I never can be thine.” Proudly, with folded arms he stood, And cold, sarcastic smile-- “Ha! this is but a wayward mood, An artful woman’s wile. But this I know: so long--so long I’ve held thee to thy vow, That I have made the bond too strong For thee to break it now.” “You know me not;--my lofty pride Was hidden from your eyes; But you have crushed it down so low It gives me strength to rise. O! all my bitter, burning thoughts I may not, dare not tell! Sigurd, my loved--_forever_ loved! Farewell! once more, farewell!”