The Huguenot's Farewell

I stand upon the threshold stone
Of mine ancestral hall;
I hear my native river moan;
I see the night o’er my old forests fall.

I look round on the darkening vale
That saw my childhood’s plays;
The low wind in its rising wail
Hath a strange tone, a sound of other days.

But I must rule my swelling breast:
A sign is in the sky!
Bright o’er yon gray rock’s eagle-nest
Shines forth a warning star--it bids me fly.

My father’s sword is in my hand,
His deep voice haunts mine ear;
He tells me of the noble band
Whose lives have left a brooding glory here.

He bids their offspring guard from stain
Their pure and lofty faith;
And yield up all things, to maintain
The cause for which they girt themselves to death.

And I obey. I leave their towers
Unto the stranger’s tread,
Unto the creeping grass and flowers,
Unto the fading pictures of the dead.

I leave their shields to slow decay,
Their banners to the dust:
I go, and only bear away
Their old majestic name--a solemn trust!

I go up to the ancient hills.
Where chains may never be,
Where leap in joy the torrent-rills,
Where man may worship God, alone and free.

There shall an altar and a camp
Impregnably arise;
There shall be lit a quenchless lamp,
To shine, unwavering, through the open skies.

And song shall midst the rocks be heard,
And fearless prayer ascend;
While, thrilling to God’s holy word,
The mountain-pines in adoration bend.

And there the burning heart no more
Its deep thought shall suppress,
But the long-buried truth shall pour
Free currents thence, amidst the wilderness.

Then fare thee well, my mother’s bower!
Farewell, my father’s hearth!--
Perish my home! where lawless power
Hath rent the tie of love to native earth.

Perish! let deathlike silence fall
Upon the lone abode;
Spread fast, dark ivy! spread thy pall;--
I go up to the mountains with my God.