The Lonely Isle :: :: University of Virginia Library

The Lonely Isle

A South-Sea Island Tale, In Three Cantos. By William Glen

Glen, William (1787-1826)

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CANTO III.

I

Nine years had seen their happiness increase,
For Heaven had granted them one Pledge of Joy;
And every passing day, the Land of Peace
Seemed still more lovely to a Parent's eye.
For little Edward was a blooming boy,
Wherein the graces of his mother smiled;
His eye, like her's, was as the dark blue sky,
But it was far more piercing, and more wild—
He was indeed a lovely interesting child.

II

Arrayed in head-dress of wild plumage bright,
Girdle with Humming-bird's rich feathers wove;
His left hand in his Mother's, in his right
A little bow and arrows,—to some grove,
Together prattling, they would often rove.
Henry would view them with endearing smile,
Fancy them Cupid and the Queen of Love,
Wandering in Paphos! and he'd muse, meanwhile,
In classic reverie, on some distant Grecian Isle.

III

The kid (now grown) would all day long attend
On Edward wheresoever he might go;
He was to him a playful merry friend,
And would his pleasure in mad gambols show.
Affection every day would stronger grow;
And that affection Edward joyed to meet;—
And from his Mother pleasure-tears would flow,
To hear, at night, the farewel clap and bleat,
And see her Son asleep, the goat stretched at his feet!

IV

One morning Edward, with his friend the goat,
Climbed o'er the rocks, and wandered by the sea;
'Till, sudden! a Canoe he saw afloat,
And much he marvelled what thing it could be.
He saw a Savage! and he turned to flee;
In vain;—the Indian sprung up to pursue,
And soon o'ertook him; then, with shouts of glee,
He bore him to some others now in view,
And carefully they placed him in the war-canoe.

V

But all this time the poor goat was not slack,
High on a rock her bleatings echoed wide;
The Chieftain took an arrow from his back,
And instant launched it in the mourner's side.
The swift Canoe then darted o'er the tide,
While Edward called upon his mother dear
So piteous, that even savage pride
Was humbly melted to a pitying tear;—
They gave him fruit, and smiled to calm his boyish fear.

VI

How shrieked Monimia, when she espied
The goat come crawling homeward o'er the rock,
The arrow sticking in her bloody side;—
A mother's feelings, lightning-like, awoke,
Edward's companion had received the stroke
Of death, it lay in quivering agony.
She shrieked again—again the silence broke,
The distant woods re-echoed mournfully;
She wrung her hands, and asked where her dear Son might be.

VII

Henry looked wild, he knew the arrow was
A stranger's—and he tremblingly did say,
“I trust my Edward”—here he made a pause,
Then darting to a telescope that lay
Over the door, he told his Love to stay.
His rapid step the lightning's speed assumes,
And from a rock he views, far far away,
A large Canoe; his soul is wrapt in glooms—
Yon is his Boy aboard! he knows him by his plumes.

VIII

Sudden he starts! a noise is at his ear!
'Twas sweet Monimia who met his view;
Pale as the lily did his love appear,
As from his hand the telescope she drew:
Panting and breathless, long she looked it thro',
And cried, in ecstasy, “my sweet Boy smiles!
The Savages caress him! they are few,
And cannot come from very far off Isles,
Mayhap our home, and theirs, is distant but some miles.”

IX

But now, exhausted nature, struggling, fell,
And for a little season calmed her woes;
Henry then drooped, he bade the world farewel,
And dark oblivion his eye-lids close.
O! 'twas a fearful, a death-like repose!
Henry had clasped his sweet Monimia's hand,
But when their cheeks rekindled with the rose,
They looked like those who first decked earth's lone land,
When Eve left Adam's side, by God's supreme command!

X

Monimia op'd her long eye-lashes first,
But when she saw her Henry breathless near,
A shriek of wo! a shower of tears than burst,
As she encircled him she held most dear;—
“Henry, awake! thy own Monimia cheer,
It is Monimia calls! thy all! thy love!
My God! O! wilt thou let me linger here,
When we together have so kindly strove?
Take me, and let me join my dearest joy above.”

XI

But soon his breast throbbed with returning life,
Yet his sad lineaments confest despair;
He wept upon the bosom of his wife,
And found a calm when he had nestled there.
“O my Monimia! all our tender care
Hath perished with our good and lovely Boy;—
No! I am raving, there is still a pair
Who yet will taste their old accustomed joy—
But, God! why give us bliss, and yet that bliss destroy?”

XII

Thus would he sometimes argue, sometimes rave,
Till reason triumphed o'er the grief of man;
His Love was proud that she had courage gave,
And that in fortitude she led the van;
But when she saw her Edward's darling Nan
(That was the name she'd given to the goat),
Lying in death, her cheeks turned deadly wan,
And she the aid she gave, from Henry sought,
Her highly boasted courage was but dearly bought.

XIII

Storms howl not always on the mighty deep,
Nor doth the raging tempest ceaseless blow;
The widowed eye will not for ever weep,
Nor will the mourner's sorrow ever flow:
Almighty God can soothe the soul of wo,
Nor will he leave the innocent to mourn,
Mercy and innocence together go;—
He will not give the bruised reed to burn,
But bind it up, and all its former strength return.

XIV

So, soft tranquility, and peace of mind,
By gentlest slow gradations re-appears;
Lovely Monimia and her Henry find,
That Innocence alone the bosom cheers.
Since Edward's absence, now had passed three years,
And much they wondered, if some island nigh
Had safely held the cause of all their fears;
For tho' so many months had passed by,
They'd often think of him, and heave the heavy sigh.

XV

One evening, as they lay in calm repose,
A noise awoke them—but what could it be?
Again!—the anxious Henry swift arose,
And climbed the high rock with rapidity.
The Moon shone bright, when by her splendour he
Espied a ship at anchor on the wave,
With sails brailed up, 'bout half a mile at sea!
He staggered wildly—he began to rave,
And wept, and sung, and talked about an English grave.

XVI

Swift as the light he left his station high,
And clasped Monimia to his bursting breast—
“Love! in the Lonely Isle we will not die;
For Heaven hath heard, and granted our request:
O! who should doubt the Almighty's high behest?
Or think he'll leave his chosen to despair?
The sun is up, Monimia, do not rest,
Come to the rock, and all my rapture share,
Come, view the ocean-wave, a gallant ship rides there!

XVII

Monimia her bright garb upon her flung,
So quick, she spoke not, but with Henry sped;
Like Antelopes swift up the rock they sprung,
While tears of joy and grief Monimia shed:
Still not a word they to each other said,
The rose was fading from Monimia's cheek,
And Henry's colour too began to fade;
“Joy! joy! O joy! (for he at length could speak)
St. George's Ensign waves upon the mizen-peak!”

XVIII

Then Henry waved his plume of feathers high,
It brightly fluttered to the morning breeze;
The rocks reverberated back his cry:—
At length the gallant ship the signal sees:
Swift o'er the wave a little pinnace flees,
And nighs the shore, manned with a dauntless crew.
Meantime, the Islanders fell on their knees;
But when the sailors had them full in view,
They rested on their oars, and wonder higher grew.

XIX

The Bird of Paradise had his plumes lent,
And formed a head-dress to Monimia light;
The robe was what no limner e'er could paint,
Wove with the Humming-bird's rich plumage bright;
Whene'er she turned, she dazzled the strained sight,
Like image framed in no earthly mould!
The sun to view her seemed to take delight,
And loved the different colours to unfold,
The Emerald, Topaz, Ruby, sparkling rich in gold!

XX

And Henry's mantle was of gaudiest hue,
Tho' in his hurry negligent put on;
They seemed, unto the awe-struck wondering crew,
The blessed beings of some other zone.
A foot-board from the boat to shore was thrown,—
The sailors would Monimia sustain;
But Henry placed her on the seat alone;
And, 'mid dumb wonder at the present scene,
They loosed the boat, and swiftly plyed the oar again.

XXI

The Captain kindly welcomed them aboard,
And in his cabin screened from gazing eye;
They told their kind deliverer, word for word,
Of their hard fate and long captivity.
The generous Captain often heaved the sigh,
Saying, their usage bore mysterious air;
Bade them be happy, and the tear-drop dry,
That if they'd throw themselves upon his care,
To England he was bound, and he would land them there.

XXII

They clasped his hands in silent gratitude;—
But ere they sailed from the Lone Isle away,
Henry the story richly carved in wood,
Which might find Edward if he'd that way stray,
Exhibiting the friendly ship that lay
Off their sweet island, how in her they fly
Across the wave; that there they would not stay,
But come in search of him;—and, to catch his eye,
Floating above the cot, a streamer waved on high.

XXIII

A breeze sprung up, the lofty ship set sail,
From anchor loosed, she sweeps at liberty;
And gathering swiftness from the freshening gale,
She moves majestic thro' the foaming sea.
Monimia's breast was far from sorrow free,
The crystal drops stood in her eye meanwhile—
“My Boy!” she cried, “I trust in life ye be,
If so, ye'll be releast from bondage vile.—
Farewel, farewel mine own romantic lonely isle!”

XXIV

Pass we the long and weary voyage o'er,
For nothing varied could the passage show;
They stept at length on England's happy shore,
While tears of rapture from the wanderers flow.
And well they might! for many a scene of wo
Had passed since they had seen their native grove,
Sweet haunt of youthful joys! where long ago
They oft had wandered, in the dawn of love,
And mourned for those who were away to realms above.

XXV

Abrupt they entered in the well-known place,
The Guardian then was sitting in the hall;
Hearing a noise, he turned his aged face;
But met a sight that did his soul appal!
Monimia's features he did soon recal;
And when the story of their wo was told,
Remorse was at its height, he told them all,
Produced the will, but could not it unfold—
Sudden he on the floor in strong convulsions rolled!

XXVI

So sudden was the shock, it snapt the breath
Of the poor wretched horror-struck old man;
They sprung to help him, but the hand of death
Had placed the seal upon his features wan.
Thus, for a little, villains hug their plan;
But, ah! where the Almighty shakes his rod,
Tho' dark and hidden be the course they've ran,
He brings their gray hairs sorrowing to the sod—
Such are thy wondrous ways, thou Omnipresent God.

XXVII

Now I could tell a strange and wondrous tale,
Of Henry and Monimia again;
How they equipt a war-ship and set sail,
To search for islands on the stormy main:
How they revisited the lonely scene,
Where Edward blessed their fond delighted view!
Of his adventures—a romantic strain!
But ere the marvellous story I renew,
My readers, for a time, I bid ye all adieu.