University of Virginia Library


132

THE MAIDEN AND THE MARINER.

The toilet's task was o'er
The satin slipper clasped the modelled foot,
The white glove rested on the snowy arm,
While Ella's heart beat lightly;—light her tread
As down the steps with airy grace she sprang
To greet the neighboring ball-room's fairy scene;
Then bounded towards her carriage, and her laugh
Went ringing like a happy waterfall
Bursting from summer hills.
She nears the blaze
Of the saloon where sylphlike movements wait
On music, as an echo on its sound;
Where eyes like midnight stars shine joyously
From out the firmament of heart and mind.
The carriage stops. Hark! a low plaintive voice!
“Pity,” it said, “the shipwreck'd mariner,
Who has no friend, no country, and no home.”

133

“Back, fellow!” one exclaimed, “away, away!”
The vagrant was thrust off. With flowing robes,
White as the garb a new-made spirit wears,
Fair Ella glided by. Again that voice!—
She paused. A shade came o'er her sunny brow
Soft as morn's vapor on a silver stream.
“That voice of woe will haunt my thoughts,” she said,
“Will mingle with the dance discordantly,
Should I still coldly turn mine ear away.
And our dear William is a sailor too!
What if he need a pitying stranger's aid,
Young rebel from our hearth? God bless the boy!”
And here she heaved a sister's natural sigh,
And turning to the mariner she ask'd,—
“Stranger, what would'st thou? Can I aid thy need?”
Bright fell the light upon the seaman's coarse
And tattered garments,—brightly too it shone
On Ella's flower-wreathed brow and graceful form.
He paused. Ripe for the witcheries of the dance,
E'en though her heart was touch'd with sympathy,
The maiden's slipper'd foot kept eager time
To the loud gush of harmony that filled
The near saloon, while her slight ivory fan
Tapped on her open palm impatiently.

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Nearer the sea-worn veteran pressed, and crossed
His hands upon his threadbare coat, and bowed.
A moment—Back he throws the ragged robe;
And lo! a manly form, in youth's fresh glow,
And laughing eyes, beneath the clustering curls,
That hang in ripen'd fulness o'er his brow!
'T is William, the gay wanderer,—and he clasps
The youthful Ella to his brother heart!
1834.