 | The Poetical Works of Robert Story |  |
II.
Brief gaze I took; then turned to rouse my guide,Who still lay fixed in slumber at my side.
A man he was, whose scanty locks of gray
Showed he had passed of life the middle day;
But whose black, piercing eye, and active frame
Advancing years had little 'vailed to tame.
I told him day appeared already high,
And asked him if it now was time to fly?
“Not yet,” the old man answered. “While we stay,
Here we are safe; for, soothly I may say,
No mortal man, except with Satan's aid,
Can ever find the place where we are laid!
I knew the cave of old, and think 'tis styled,
By the few Dwellers round these mountains wild,
The Cave of Gennet, who, they used to tell,
A Fairy was, that loved the sylvan dell,
And haunted cave and stream—till put to flight
For ever by the beams of Gospel-light.
Such tales, be sure, have little weight with me;
But when I learned thy wish was to be free,
I then at once bethought me of the place;
And hoped if—aided by St. Mary's grace—
I could persuade the Chief, though but a day,
To quit the vale, and keep the mountain way,
I might contrive to lodge thee safely here,
Until thy pathway of escape were clear.”
| The Poetical Works of Robert Story | |