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Show 16 THE LIDt;JtTY llt:LL. And the Arab boy, half seen Through the wild-vine's tent of green, Watching drowsily his flocks From his nook among tho rocks. li'ast among men's hearths and homes Lies a desert filled with tombs; And their noisome cells surround Souls in stony durance bound, Souls whoso bodies play their part In the field, tho church, the mart. By them runs life's busy din, But no sound can enter in. Enters not the morning light, Not tho starry calm of night. Fiends have set their watch full sure, Fiends have sealed the massy door, And without that rigid vail,- Mid those rocks of Moussa's vale, • • The Arable nan1e of tbla nlley of Wmbll is Wady-lloussa, or tbevaleo!Moecs. .P.ETUA; OH, A SONG 01!' THE D.ES.ERT. 17 As tho vine with tendrils deft Sought, and found no entrancc-clefi, - Hangs, in unprcvailing strife, Human love on human life. Who hath might to rend apart The stone that closes o'er the heart? Long may watchers weep and wait, For that stone is very great. Faith and Hope, linked hand in hand, With heavenward eyes expectant stand, Meek and lonely, as of yore Tho Maries, at the sepulchre. Hard and grim its brow is knit, All with grim hard records writ. Who their import dark shall say 1 Who shall roll the stone away 1 Fasts and vigils give the art To read the language of tho heart. Read me then, thou well~met seer, Somewhat of the records here 2• ' |