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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=117607" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Outcast</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">“There is a race of people inhabiting the Vale of Lieze,<br>on the French side of the Pyrenees, who are supposed to be<br>descended from the Saracens, and are entirely excluded from<br>communion with the rest of mankind.—They are even obliged to<br>enter the churches by a separate door, and no one will make use<br>of the holy water which their touch has polluted.”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The vineyards of France ‘neath their fruitage were bending,<br>And spread their rich clusters of blue to the sun,<br>And high o'er the steep of the mountain ascending,<br>The soft voice of song, with wild merriment blending,<br>Told where the gay harvester's toil was begun.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The sun its last glance o'er the landscape was flinging,<br>And sounds from afar came distinctly and clear;<br>The birds from each covert their vespers were singing,<br>And far in the vale the deep convent-bell ringing,<br>Sent up its sad tones to the wanderer's ear.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He flung himself down with an aspect of sadness,<br>And listlessly gazed on the landscape below;<br>His spirit by scorn had been goaded to madness,<br>And now that bright scene, and those murmurs of gladness,<br>Seem'd rising before him to mock at his woe.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“Oh why,” he exclaim'd, as the bitter tear started,<br>“Oh why was I form'd with a bosom to feel!<br>Since thus I was doom'd from mankind to be parted,<br>An outcast on earth, lone, and desolate-hearted,<br>Too vile with the vilest in worship to kneel.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“And thou—loved and lost one—oh why didst thou nourish<br>The weed that was trampled by all, save by thee;<br>The gleamings of light in my young spirit cherish,<br>And waken high feelings and hopes but to perish,<br>And leave my dark fate doubly dreadful to me?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“In the hours of my slumber proud visions come o'er me,<br>And life for a moment seems brightly to smile,<br>The pathway of glory and fame is before me,<br>The noble caress, and the lovely adore me,<br>And every sad thought from my bosom beguile.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“But, ah! from those dreams soon and sadly I waken,<br>To find all around me thrice gloomy and drear;<br>To know that thou, too, from my arms hast been taken,<br>Thou blest and revered one, whose friendship unshaken,<br>The darkest, the saddest, of moments would cheer.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“Oh death! thou stern foe to the lovely and blooming,<br>Thou terror to those who are blessing and blest!<br>How freely this bosom would welcome thy coming,<br>How gladly, thy garment of darkness assuming,<br>Sink down into slumber and peace on thy breast!”</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Elizabeth+Margaret+Chandler">Elizabeth Margaret Chandler</a> from <i>Poetical Works</i><div class=q>
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