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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=391515" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Carolan's Prophecy</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">A sound of music, from amidst the hills,<br>Came suddenly, and died; a fitful sound<br>Of mirth, soon lost in wail.â€“Again it rose,<br>And sank in mournfulness.â€“There sat a bard,<br>By a blue stream of Erin, where it swept<br>Flashing thro' rock and wood; the sunset's light<br>Was on his wavy, silver-gleaming hair,<br>And the wind's whisper in the mountain-ash, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Whose clusters droop'd above. His head was bow'd,<br>His hand was on his harp, yet thence its touch<br>Had drawn but broken strains; and many stood,<br>Waiting around, in silent earnestness,<br>Th' unchaining of his soul, the gush of song,â€“<br>Many, and graceful forms! yet one alone<br>Seem'd present to his dream; and she indeed,<br>With her pale, virgin brow, and changeful cheek,<br>And the clear starlight of her serious eyes,<br>Lovely amidst the flowing of dark locks<br>And pallid braiding flowers, was beautiful,<br>Ev'n painfully!â€“a creature to behold<br>With trembling midst our joy, lest aught unseen<br>Should waft the vision from us, leaving earth<br>Too dim without its brightness!â€“Did such fear<br>O'ershadow, in that hour, the gifted one,<br>By his own rushing stream?â€“Once more he gaz'd<br>Upon the radiant girl, and yet once more<br>From the deep chords his wandering hand brought out<br>A few short festive notes, an opening strain </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Of bridal melody, soon dash'd with grief,<br>As if some wailing spirit in the strings<br>Met and o'ermaster'd him: but yielding then<br>To the strong prophet-impulse, mournfully,<br>Like moaning waters o'er the harp he pour'd<br>The trouble of his haunted soul, and sangâ€“ </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Voice of the grave!<br>I hear thy thrilling call;<br>It comes in the dash of the foaming wave,<br>In the sear leaf's trembling fall!<br>In the shiver of the tree,<br>I hear thee, O thou voice!<br>And I would thy warning were but for me,<br>That my spirit might rejoice. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But thou art sent<br>For the sad earth's young and fair,<br>For the graceful heads that have not bent<br>To the wintry hand of care! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">They hear the wind's low sigh,<br>And the river sweeping free,<br>And the green reeds murmuring heavily,<br>And the woodsâ€“but they hear not thee! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Long have I striven<br>With my deep foreboding soul,<br>But the full tide now its bounds hath riven,<br>And darkly on must roll.<br>There's a young brow smiling near,<br>With a bridal white-rose wreath,â€“<br>Unto me it smiles from a flowery bier,<br>Touch'd solemnly by death! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Fair art thou, Morna!<br>The sadness of thine eye<br>Is beautiful as silvery clouds<br>On the dark-blue summer sky! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And thy voice comes like the sound<br>Of a sweet and hidden rill,<br>That makes the dim woods tuneful roundâ€“<br>But soon it must be still! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Silence and dust<br>On thy sunny lips must lie,<br>Make not the strength of love thy trust,<br>A stronger yet is nigh!<br>No strain of festal flow<br>That my hand for thee hath tried,<br>But into dirge-notes wild and low<br>Its ringing tones have died. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Young art thou, Morna!<br>Yet on thy gentle head,<br>Like heavy dew on the lily's leaves,<br>A spirit hath been shed! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And the glance is thine which sees<br>Thro' nature's awful heartâ€“<br>But bright things go with the summer-breeze,<br>And thou too, must depart! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet shall I weep?<br>I know that in thy breast<br>There swells a fount of song too deep,<br>Too powerful for thy rest!<br>And the bitterness I know,<br>And the chill of this world's breathâ€“<br>Go, all undimm'd, in thy glory go!<br>Young and crown'd bride of death! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Take hence to heaven<br>Thy holy thoughts and bright,<br>And soaring hopes, that were not given<br>For the touch of mortal blight! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Might we follow in thy track,<br>This parting should not be!<br>But the spring shall give us violets back,<br>And every flower but thee! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">There was a burst of tears around the bard:<br>All wept but one, and she serenely stood,<br>With her clear brow and dark religious eye,<br>Rais'd to the first faint star above the hills,<br>And cloudless; though it might be that her cheek<br>Was paler than before.â€“So Morna heard<br>The minstrel's prophecy.<br>And spring return'd,<br>Bringing the earth her lovely things again,<br>All, save the loveliest far! A voice, a smile,<br>A young sweet spirit gone.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Felicia+Dorothea+Hemans">Felicia Dorothea Hemans</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=391515" data-title="Carolan's Prophecy de Felicia Dorothea Hemans" data-description="A sound of music, from amidst the hills,
Came suddenly, and died; a fitful sound
Of mirth, soon lost in wail.â€“Again it rose,
And sank in mournfulness.â€“There sat a bard,
By a blue stream of Erin, where it swept
Flashing thro' rock and..."></div>
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