One moment, and those loving arms Were gently round him thrown; One moment, and those quivering lips Pressed lightly to his own: And then he stood alone! _alone!_ With eyes too proud for tears; Yet o’er his stern, cold heart was thrown The burning blight of years. O man! so God-like in thy strength, Preëminent in mind, Seek not with these high gifts alone, A woman’s heart to bind. For, timid as a shrinking fawn, Yet faithful as a dove, She clings through life and death to thee, Won by thine _earnest love_. THE MEETING OF SIGURD AND GERDA. “And beautiful now stood they there, man and woman; no longer pale; eye to eye, hand to hand, as equals,--as partners in the light of heaven.”--_See Miss Bremer’s “Brothers and Sisters.”_ “O, early love! O, early love! Why does this memory haunt me yet? Peace! I invoke thee from above,-- I cannot, though I would, forget. How I have sought, with prayers and tears, To quench this wasting passion-flame! But after long, long, weary years, It burns within my heart the same.” She wept--poor, sorrowing Gerda wept, In the dark pine-wood wandering lone, While cold the night-winds past her swept, And bright the stars above her shone. Poor, suffering dove! her song was hushed, The blithesome song of other days, Yet, O! when such true hearts are crushed, They breathe their holiest, sweetest lays. A step was heard. Her heart beat high; Through the dim shadows of the wood She glanced with quick and anxious eye-- Lo! Sigurd by her stood;-- And as the moon’s pale, quivering rays Stole through that lonely place, He stood, with calm, impassioned gaze Fixed on her tearful face. “Gerda,” he said, “I come to speak A long, a last farewell; Some distant land and home I seek, Far, far from thee to dwell. O, since I lost thee, gentle one, My truest and my best, I have rushed madly, blindly on, Nor dared to think of rest. “The night that spreads her starry wing Beyond the Northern Sea, Does not a deeper darkness bring Than that which rests on me. Yet, no! I will not ask thy tears For my deep tale of woe; Forgetfulness will come with years; Gerda--my love--I go!” “Stay! Sigurd, stay! O, why depart? See, at _thy feet_ I bow; O, cherished idol of my heart, Reject--reject _me_ now!” But not upon the cold, damp ground, Her bended knee she pressed; Upheld, and firmly clasped around, She wept upon his breast. “Reject thee? No! When earth rejects The sunshine’s summer glow, When Heaven one suppliant’s prayer neglects, Then will I bid _thee_ go. And, by the watching stars above, And by all things divine, I swear to cherish and to love This heart that beats to mine!”