And once we stopped a twelvemonth, where Five-score Bohemians began Their scheme to cheapen bed and fare, Upon a late-discovered plan; “For see,” they said, “the sum how small By which one pilgrim’s wants are met! And if a host together fall, What need of any cash at all?” Though how it worked I half forget, Yet still the same old dance and song We found,—the kindly, blithesome throng And joyance of Bohemia. XVI. Thus onward through the Magic Land, With varying chance. But once there past A mystic shadow o’er our band, Deeper than Want could ever cast, For, oh, it darkened little eyes! We saw our youngest darling die, Then robed her in her palmer’s guise, And crossed the fair hands pilgrim-wise, And, one by one, so tenderly, Came Ambrose, Sibyl, Ralph, and Rose, Strewing each sweetest flower that grows In wildwoods of Bohemia. XVII. But last the Poet, sorrowing, stood Above the tiny clay, and said: “Bright little Spirit, pure and good, Whither so far away hast fled? Full soon thou tryest that other sphere: Whate’er is lacking in our lives Thou dost attain; for Heaven is near, Methinks, to pilgrims wandering here, As to that one who never strives With fortune,—has not come to know The pride and pain that dwell so low In valleys of Bohemia.” XVIII. He ceased, and pointed solemnly Through western windows; and we saw That lustrous castle of the sky Gleam, touched with flame; and heard with awe, About us, gentle whisperings Of unseen watchers hovering near Our dead, and rustling angel wings! Now, whether this or that year brings The valley’s end, or, haply, here Our pilgrimage for life must last, We know not; but a sacred past Has hallowed all Bohemia. THE DIAMOND WEDDING. O love! Love! Love! what times were those, Long ere the age of belles and beaux And Brussels lace and silken hose, When, in the green Arcadian close, You married Psyche, under the rose, With only the grass for bedding! Heart to heart, and hand in hand, You followed Nature’s sweet command— Roaming lovingly through the land, Nor sighed for a Diamond Wedding. So have we read, in classic Ovid, How Hero watched for her beloved, Impassioned youth, Leander. She was the fairest of the fair, And wrapt him round with her golden hair, Whenever he landed cold and bare, With nothing to eat and nothing to wear And wetter than any gander; For Love was Love, and better than money; The slyer the theft, the sweeter the honey; And kissing was clover, all the world over, Wherever Cupid might wander. So thousands of years have come and gone, And still the moon is shining on, Still Hymen’s torch is lighted; And hitherto, in this land of the West, Most couples in love have thought it best To follow the ancient way of the rest, And quietly get united.