At Home And Abroad Part 42

Sleep sweetly, gentle child! though the loved tone That twice twelve months had hushed thee to repose Could give no answer to the tearful moan That faintly from thy sea-moss pillow rose.

That night the arms that closely folded thee Were the wet weeds that floated in the sea.

Sleep sweetly, gentle child! the cold, blue wave Hath pitied the sad sighs the wild winds bore, And from the wreck it held _one_ treasure gave To the fond watchers weeping on the sh.o.r.e;-- Now the sweet vale shall guard its precious trust, While mourning hearts weep o'er thy silent dust.

Sleep sweetly, gentle child! love's tears are shed Upon the garlands of fair Northern flowers That fond hearts strew above thy lowly bed, Through all our summer's glad and pleasant hours: For thy sake, and for hers who sleeps beneath the wave, Kind hands bring flowers to fade upon thy grave.

Sleep sweetly, gentle child! the warm wind sighs Amid the dark pines through this quiet dell, And waves the light flower-shade that lies Upon the white-leaved lily's sculptured bell;-- The "Valley's" flowers are fair, the turf is green;-- Sleep sweetly here, wept-for Eugene!

Sleep sweetly, gentle child! this peaceful rest Hath early given thee to a home above, Safe from all sin and tears, for, ever blest To sing sweet praises of redeeming love.-- The love that took thee to that world of bliss Ere thou hadst learned the sighs and griefs of this.

JULIET.

Laurel Brook, N.H., September, 1851.

[Footnote A: These lines are beautiful and full of sweet sympathy. The home of the mother and brother of Margaret Fuller being now removed from Manchester to Boston, the remains of the little child, too dear to remain distant from us, have been removed to Mount Auburn. The same marble slab is there with, its inscription, and the lines deserve insertion here.--ED.]

ON THE DEATH OF MARGARET FULLER.

BY G.P.R. JAMES.

High hopes and bright thine early path bedecked, And aspirations beautiful though wild,-- A heart too strong, a powerful will unchecked, A dream that earth-things could be undefiled.

But soon, around thee, grew a golden chain, That bound the woman to more human things, And taught with joy--and, it may be, with pain-- That there are limits e'en to Spirit's wings.

Husband and child,--the loving and beloved,-- Won, from the vast of thought, a mortal part, The impa.s.sioned wife and mother, yielding, proved Mind has itself a master--in the heart.

In distant lands enhaloed by, old fame Thou found'st the only chain thy spirit knew, But captive ledst thy captors, from the shame Of ancient freedom, to the pride of new.

And loved hearts clung around thee on the deck, Welling with sunny hopes 'neath sunny skies: The wide horizon round thee had no speck,-- E'en Doubt herself could see no cloud arise.

Thy loved ones clung around thee, when the sail O'er wide Atlantic billows onward bore Thy freight of joys, and the expanding gale Pressed the glad bark toward thy native sh.o.r.e.

The loved ones clung around thee still, when all Was darkness, tempest, terror, and dismay,-- More closely clung around thee, when the pall Of Fate was falling o'er the mortal clay.

With them to live,--with them, with them to die, Sublime of human love intense and fine!-- Was thy last prayer unto the Deity; And it was granted thee by Love Divine.

In the same billow,--in the same dark grave,-- Mother, and child, and husband, find their rest.

The dream is ended; and the solemn wave Gives back the gifted to her country's breast.

ON THE DEATH OF MARQUIS OSSOLI AND HIS WIFE, MARGARET FULLER.

BY WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR.

Over his millions Death has lawful power, But over thee, brave Ossoli! none, none!

After a long struggle, in a fight Worthy of Italy to youth restored, Thou, far from home, art sunk beneath the surge Of the Atlantic; on its sh.o.r.e; in reach Of help; in trust of refuge; sunk with all Precious on earth to thee,--a child, a wife!

Proud as thou wert of her, America Is prouder, showing to her sons how high Swells woman's courage in a virtuous breast.

She would not leave behind her those she loved: Such solitary safety might become Others,--not her; not her who stood beside The pallet of the wounded, when the worst Of France and Perfidy a.s.sailed the walls Of unsuspicious Rome. Rest, glorious soul, Renowned for strength of genius, Margaret!

Rest with the twain too dear! My words are few, And shortly none will hear my failing voice, But the same language with more full appeal Shall hail thee. Many are the sons of song Whom thou hast heard upon thy native plains, Worthy to sing of thee; the hour is come; Take we our seats and let the dirge begin.

MONUMENT TO THE OSSOLI FAMILY.

[FROM THE NEW YORK TRIBUNE.]

The family of Margaret Fuller Ossoli have just erected to her memory, and that of her husband and child, a marble monument in Mount Auburn cemetery, in Ma.s.sachusetts. It is located on Pyrola Path, in a beautiful part of the grounds, and has near it some n.o.ble oaks, while the hand of affection has planted many a flower. The body of Margaret Fuller rests in the ocean, but her memory abides in many hearts. She needs no monumental stone, but human affection loves thus to do honor to the departed.

The following is the inscription on the monument:--

Erected In Memory of

MARGARET FULLER OSSOLI, Born in Cambridge, Ma.s.s., May 23, 1810.

By birth, a Citizen of New England; by adoption, a Citizen of Rome; by genius, belonging to the World. In youth, an insatiate Student, seeking the highest culture; in riper years, Teacher, Writer, Critic of Literature and Art; in maturer age, Companion and Helper of many earnest Reformers in America and Europe.

And

In Memory of her Husband, GIOVANNI ANGELO, MARQUIS OSSOLI.

He gave up rank, station, and home for the Roman Republic, and for his Wife and Child.

And

In Memory of that Child, ANGELO EUGENE PHILIP OSSOLI,

Born in Rieti, Italy, Sept. 5, 1848, Whose dust reposes at the foot of this stone.

They pa.s.sed from life together by s.h.i.+pwreck, July 19, 1850.

United in life by mutual love, labors, and trials, the merciful Father took them together, and In death they were not divided.