University of Virginia Library

'T was a calm summer evening. On the sea,
Spread out a perfect mirror, there was seen,
In the blue, hazy distance, one white sail,
That caught the eye of hope and love. She came,
When her light task was ended, to the brow
Of a commanding precipice, that hung
Its dark wall o'er the waters. By the staff,
On which a flag was hoisted, she sat down
In the red sun-light, which, to all below,
Gave a deep tincture to the towering cliff,
And the loose folds that tremulously waved
In the scarce-breathing sea-wind, and the snow
Of her own tender paleness. She had caught
The sail from the lone cottage of her sire;
For she was motherless, and had not known
The name of sister; but her heart was bound
In the affection of a father's heart,
And in the love of one who was not there,
But far upon the ocean. She had been
Nursed tenderly and fondly; for the hand
That reared her in that solitude was full,
And might have lived in cities, and have been
Courted by the vain crowd, but that he chose
The silence of a distant, wild retreat,
Which left him to the company of books,
And the dear culture of the infant mind,
To which his heart was knit by all the links
That bind us to the cherished and the young,
The gentle and the lovely. He had fled
From a harsh world; and on the ocean's brink,
And in the bosom of romantic hills,
And by the channel of a broken stream,
Had sought communion with the beautiful
And the sublime of Nature; but he still
Nourished the kindest feelings; and in one
Who had from him her life, and was the life
Of his decaying years, he treasured up
All he had ever known of early love
And youth's devoted passion. She had grown,
In her unstained seclusion, bright and pure
As a first opened rose-bud, when it spreads
Its pink leaves to the sweetest dawn of May,
After a night-shower, which had wet the woods
And gardens with the big, round drops that hang
Dancing in the fresh breeze, and tremblingly
Specking the flowers with light. She too had been
Not only shielded from all tint and stain
Of the world's evil, that the first clear stream
Of feeling in her heart still flowed as clear
As when it first ran onward, like a spring
That ever comes from the deep-caverned rock
Flowing in virgin crystal,—but her mind
Was lifted by the guidance of a mind
Wrought to habitual greatness, and endued
With the true sense of glory. She was taught
That happiness was in the tender heart
And the waked soul; that the full treasure spread
In beauty o'er the ocean and the earth,
With change of season, and its ever new
And grand or lovely aspect was enough
To move the heart to rapture, and supply
The food of thought, the never-failing spring
Of sweet sensations and unwasting joys.
But nature still was in her, and she soon
Felt, that the fond affection of her sire,
And her loved tasks,—the study of high thoughts,
Poured out in sainted volumes, which had been
Stamped in the mint of Genius, and had come
Unhurt through darkest ages, bright as gems
That sparkle, though in dust,—the skilful touch
Of instruments of music, and the voice
Sweet in its untaught melody, as birds
Clear-warbling in the bushes, but attuned
To the just flow of harmony,—the hand
That woke the forms of pencilled life, and gave
Its color to the violet, and its fire
To the dark eye, its blushes to the cheek
And to the lip its sweetness, or that drew
O'er the pure lawn the silken thread, and wove
The full-leafed vine, and the luxuriant rose,
All petals and vermilion,—or the walk
On the rude shore, to hear the rushing waves,
Or view the wide sea sleeping,—on the hill
To catch the living landscape, and combine
The miracles of Nature in one full
And deep enchantment,—or to trace the brook
Up to its highest fountain in the shade
Of a thick tuft of alders, and go down
By all its leaps and windings, gathering there
The forest roses, and the nameless flowers,
That open in the wilderness, and live
Awhile in sweetest loveliness, and die
Without an eye to watch them, or a heart
To gladden in their beauty,—or in that,
The fondest to the pure and delicate,
The gentle deed of charity, the gift
That cheers the widow, or dries up the flow
Of a lone orphan's bitterness, the voice,
The melting voice of sympathy, which heals,
With a far softer touch, the wounded heart,
Than the cold alms dropped by a scornful hand,
That flings the dole it grudges,—such but tears
Anew the closed wound open, while the friend,
Who smiles when smoothing down the lonely couch,
And does kind deeds, which any one can do
Who has a feeling spirit, such a friend
Heals with a searching balsam:—though her days
Passed on in such sweet labors, still she felt
Alone, and there was in her virgin heart
A void that all her pleasures could not fill.
She was not made to waste her years alone,
But the great voice of Nature spake to her,
That loving, and beloved by one like her,
Youthful and beautiful, her heart would find
In the fond interchange of looks and thoughts,
And in the deep anxiety of love,
The measure of her joyous spirit full.

And such an one she found. One Sabbath eve
She sat within an ivied church hard by,
Beside her honored father, when the choir
Sang their last chant, and the deep organ-peal
Was dying through the twilight vault away;
When the set sun had thrown upon the broad
And checkered window one full saffron blaze,
So that the pillars glittered, and the gold
And crimson of the pulpit tapestry
Shone like the clouds that curtained o'er the west,
And seemed to glow, as they were folds of fire
Hung round the dark blue mountains; when the light
Fell through the aisles, and glanced along the seats
So clear, the eye was dazzled, and all forms
Were half intensely bright, and half deep shade;—
Then, as the magic sunset, and the place
Hallowed to her pure spirit, and the sounds
Of closing melody, and the calm words,
That asked a blessing on the silent crowd,
Who listened to the prayer with breathless awe,—
As these came o'er her feelings with a charm
Of most delicious sweetness, when her soul
Caught part of the new energy abroad
In that deep-hallowed mansion, and was far
Ascending to the glory which pervades
The one Eternal Temple,—then her eye,
Living with her rapt spirit, chanced to fall
On the bright features of a noble youth,
Whose eye fell full on hers. As if a sense
Of kindred being had at once possessed
Their spirits, and a sacred fire informed
Their souls with one new life, they looked and loved.
It was the birth of passion;—there went forth
From each an influence, that as a chain
Linked their young hearts together. They would turn
Aside their eyes, but in an instant back
They glanced and met; and as they met, they fell
In deep confusion downward. Then their hearts
Beat throbbingly; a blush rose on their cheeks,
Flushing and fading like the changeful play
Of colors on a dolphin. Thus they looked
Few minutes, and then parted; but as back
They sauntered to their several homes, they turned
Momently to behold the lovely thing,
Which, once beloved, grew dearer every time
Their fond eyes met; and when they heard a sound
From lips that long had trembled,—when the touch
Thrilled them, and tender words were given in fear,
So that the low voice quivered, and the words
Died half unfinished,—it was then beheld
As something more than mortal.

Love went on,
Day after day expanding, like the flower
That closes with the darkness, and awakes
When the new morn awakens. So their love
Caught new life from their often interviews,
And opened, and grew riper; their young hearts
Beat in a truer harmony the more
Their looks were blended, and their words exchanged.
So they passed on in love, a flowery path
Over a fragrant meadow, where all hues
Of loveliness were painted, and all airs
Of fragrance flowing. In the pure blue heaven,
Calm as a summer day, serenity
Smiled ever, and their hearts partook the calm
That reigned so bright around them. 'T was a time
Of Eden, such as soon will pass away,
And leave the storm behind it. Not for earth,
Not for the changeful beings who in sport
Or sorrow dwell amid its thorns and flowers,
Is this serenity a certain thing,
Above the reach of passion, or the clouds
That chill and darken. They had lived awhile
Most happy, in their pure and innocent love:
They were too young for evil; and they knew
But ill the feeling which pervaded them,
And drew them to each other's side, and made
Their hours of meeting ecstasy. Their play,
Their walks, their books, their talk of other days
And other nations, all that they had gleaned
From Nature and from man,—these had a zest,
Which they could ill account for; but they knew,
And keenly felt, its happiness. They looked
Affection, but they told it not: their love
Was silent; it grew on through many years,
And ripened as the tender down of youth
Showed the approach of manhood. Then it spake,
And would not be denied. The quiet stream,
Which through its banks of velvet turf and flowers
Flowed in an unseen channel, with a voice
Low whispering o'er its smooth and sandy bed,—
This stream now gathered strength, and, checked and bound,
Rushed to its freedom;—it could not prevail.
The laws of honor, and the stern behest
Of a false order, chained them, and compelled
Their kindred spirits to a separate path,
And told them they must part, and meet no more.

Her life was humble, and her simple home
Showed little of the greatness which lay hid
Beneath so plain a shelter. Ivied walls,
And woodbines trained to overarch the doors
And windows; some few beds of summer flowers,
And a wild shrubbery, where neatness reigned,
And only checked the too luxuriant growth
Of Nature, but subdued it not; within,
A plain, well-ordered household, without show
Of wealth or fashion;—this concealed from all,
Who were not in the secret, what had marred
The peace of its possessor, and had drawn
The parasite and flatterer to disturb
The rest he sought so earnestly and long.
He found it, and was happy. He had marked
The growing fondness of these youthful ones,
And sometimes feared, but did not yet refuse
His sanction to their interviews. No sign
Of aught but common friendship yet had met
His watchful eye; but when he saw the flame
Come forth in energy, and at the time
When love is danger, and, if checked not, death,—
Then he was filled with fears, and well he knew,
Unless their fondness could be linked by law,
In the pure bond of wedded love, that ruin
Would soon o'ertake them, and his treasured child
Be cast on the cold world, its sport and scorn
Therefore he sought the parents of the youth,
The high and lordly. In their castle hall
They met him, under frowning battlements,
Behind the high-arched gateway, in the midst
Of trophies and of pictures, which revealed
The greatness of their ancestry. Their pride
Was stung by the base offer, and they spurned
The good man from their presence, and pronounced
Their deepest malediction on their son,
If he should ever think of stooping down
From the high perch of his nobility,
To-woo and wed with plebeians, and those poor.

It soon was ended;—with the generous heart
Of a young noble, who has joined the pride
Of lofty birth with all the unchecked force
Of nature, he refused to bend his soul
To the stern mandates of society.
He loved,—loved keenly; and he could not bow
To what seemed tyranny, and so he sought
His wonted happiness, at least the bliss
Of mutual tears, and vows of tenderness,
Never to leave their loves, but always cling
To the fixed hope, that there should be a time
When they could meet unfettered, and be blessed
With the full happiness of certain love.
He sought his usual meeting, but he found
The welcome door closed on him, and was told,
He must away, for though his noble life,
Bright with its many virtues, and high deeds,
Had naught to alienate her father's heart,
Yet their unequal fortunes must for ever
Part them, and therefore he must not delay.
He turned with heavy heart, and slowly went,
With often pauses, to the sounding shore,
And, seated on a broken rock, looked long
Over the far, blue waters. “I will go,”
He said, after long silence, “I will go
To other lands, and find in other worlds
Wherewith to quell this passion, if a love
So long and deeply cherished can be quelled
By time and change. There is no pleasure here;
The cold, dead-hearted nuptials, which the great
Seek, in their anxious longing to retain
The show of their once sure ascendency,
Made sure by personal greatness, and the sway
Of a high spirit, and a lofty mind
O'er meaner souls,—these are my deepest scorn,
My horror, and my loathing. I am one
Who find within me a nobility
That spurns the idle prating of the great,
And their mean boast of what their fathers were,
While they themselves are fools, effeminates,
The scorn of all who know the worth of mind
And virtue. I have cherished in my heart
A love for one whose beauty would have charmed
In Athens, and have won the sensual love
Of Eastern monarchs; but to the pure heart,
And the great soul within her, 't is to me
As nothing, and I know what 't is to love
A spiritual beauty, and behind the foil
Of an unblemished loveliness still find
Charms of a higher order, and a power
Deeper and more resistless. Had I found
Such thoughts and feelings, such a clear, deep stream
Of mind, in one whom vulgar men had thrown
As a dull pebble from them, I had loved,
Not with a love less fond, nor with a flame
Of less intense devotion. I must go;
I must forget. There is a sense of death
Comes o'er me, when I tear myself away
From one so bright and lovely. Had the sun
Set in an endless darkness, life had been
Not darker than the journey I must take
Alone, along a hard and thorny way,
Where only interest rules, and faith and love
Are banished, and the cold and heartless crowd
Live, each the other's plunderer, as if life
Were only meant for rapine, and poor man
Were made to prey upon his kindred wretch.
But I must go;—only one short adieu,
Only a few fond words, a few dear looks,
One kiss at parting, and our hopes are ended.
We long have dreamed of happiness, long known
Joys which were more than mortal, long have felt
The bliss of mingled hearts and blended souls,
And long have thought the vision was eternal;
It vanishes, and I am now a wretch,
And what will be her sorrows, none can tell.”

The sun was setting, and his last rays threw
Bright colors on the clouds that hung around
The mountains, dimly rising in the west,
Over a broad expanse of sheeted gold,
On which a ship lay floating. It was calm,—
Her sails were set, but yet the dying wind
Scarce wooed them, as they trembled on the yard
With an uncertain motion. She arose,
As a swan rises on her gilded wings,
When on a lake at sunset she uprears
Her form from out the waveless stream, and steers
Into the far, blue ether,—so that ship
Seemed lifted from the waters, and suspended,
Winged with her bright sails, in the silent air.
A voice came from that ship, the voice of joy,
The song of a light heart, and it invoked
The coming of the breeze, to send them forth
Over the rolling ocean. He looked out
On the wide sea, and on the sheeted bay,
And on the rocking vessel; and at once
His purpose was resolved. He must away,
He must to other regions, and there strive
To conquer love so cherished. He drew out
His pencil, and then traced few hurried lines,
Telling her of his absence, and his hope
Of happiness at his return, and yet
Ending it with a fear that he should never
Cross the wide waters to her. He too gave
His signal; if perchance a ship drew near,
And bore a pennon on the topmast yard,
White with a heart stamped on it, she might know
He was there, hastening home, and be prepared
To meet him, and be happy. This he took,
And up a narrow valley, hung with trees,
Whose roots clung to the rifted rock, whose boughs
Met, and o'erarched the glade,—along the bank
Of a clear stream, that calmly wound its way
Under this verdant canopy, and flowed
Through a fresh turf, and beds of scented flowers,—
Up this he took his path, and as he drew
Near to the garden wall, and stood with ear
Attentive to a sound, that came to him
On the still evening air as if a hymn
Were sung above the clouds, and floated down
Through mist and dews, and softly fell to earth,
Charming the ear of darkness, soon he saw
Beneath a vine bower, seated on a couch
Of closely matted turf, the tender girl,
Where all his wishes centred, and he drew
Silently through the thicket to her side.
She started first in fear, but when she saw
The well-known youth, she deeply blushed and smiled;
Then thinking of his banishment, she dropped
Warm tears of truest sorrow. He, with fond
And feeling voice, consoled her, and renewed
His oft repeated vows, and told of years
Of undisturbed affection,—how that time
And truth would conquer, and their love would be
Brighter by their affliction. Though his heart
Ached with the thought of parting, and was forced
Even to a stern composure, yet he smiled
To make her happy. “We must part awhile;
I must go o'er the sea to other lands;
It is the call of duty; but fear not,
I shall return, and then our loves are sure.
Dream not of danger on the sea,—one Power
Protects us always, and the honest heart
Fears not the tempest. We must part awhile;
A few short months,—though short, they must be long
Without thy dear society; but yet
We must endure it, and our love will be
The fonder after parting,—it will grow
Intenser in our absence, and again
Burn with a keener glow when I return.
Fear not; this is my last resolve, and this
My parting kiss.” He put the folded lines
In her soft hand, and kissed her offered lips
Ardently, and then suddenly withdrew
From her embrace, and down the narrow vale
Fled on with hasty footsteps to the shore.
Along the beach he wandered, looking out
Upon the glorious sunset, which arrayed
All things in glory, painting them with gold
And deepest red and azure. Overhead
The sky was colored with a purest blue,
And there one star shone forth, the star of love,
His beacon; and it hung above the ship
As if it led him thither. He received
The omen, and went onward. Out at sea
The broad waves heaved, now blue, now green, now tipped
With a gilt foam, and on the unruffled bay
There was a circle round the setting sun
Of a most glittering gold; and as it spread
Farther and farther out, it changed its hue
To a clear, glassy silver, till it seemed
Thin air, and the far mountains hung above it
Suspended in the sky. They darkly frowned,
And their long shadows travelled o'er the bay,
As the sun sank still lower, while their ridge
Glowed like a flaming furnace, and a line
Of mottled clouds, that rose behind them, streaming
Into the clear, cold north, was dyed with tints,
Like the new rainbow when it first comes out
From the dark bosom of the thunder-cloud,
And spans it with its beauty, or the hues
That veiled Aurora, when she first awoke
And sprang from darkness, and with saffron robe
And rosy fingers, drove her fiery car
On over Ida to the higher heaven.

He went amid these glorious things of earth,
Transient as glorious, and along the beach
Of snowy sands, and rounded pebbles, walked,
Watching the coming of the evening tide,
Rising with every ripple, as it kissed
The gravel with a softly gurgling sound,
And still advancing up the level shore,
Till, in his deep abstraction, it flowed round
His footprints, and awoke him. When he came
Where a long reef stretched out, and in its bays,
Scooped from the shelving rocks, received the sea,
And held it as a mirror deep and dark,
He paused, and standing then against the ship,
He gave his signal. Soon he saw on board
The stir of preparation; they let down
A boat, and soon her raised and dipping oars
Flashed in the setting light, and round her prow
The gilt sea swelled and crinkled, spreading out
In a wide circle; and she glided on
Smoothly, and with a whispering sound, that grew
Louder with every dipping of the oars,
Until she neared the reef, and sent a surge
Up through its coves, and covered them with foam.
He stepped on board, and soon they bore him back
To the scarce rocking vessel, where she lay
Waiting the night-wind. On the deck he sat,
And looked to one point only, save at times,
When his eye glanced around the mingled scene
Of beauty and sublimity. Meanwhile
The sun had set, the painted sky and clouds
Put off their liveries, the bay its robe
Of brightness, and the stars were thick in heaven.
They looked upon the waters, and below
Another sky swelled out, thick set with stars,
And checkered with light clouds, which from the north
Came flitting o'er the dim-seen hills, and shot
Like birds across the bay. A distant shade
Dimmed the clear sheet; it darkened, and it drew
Nearer. The waveless sea was seen to rise
In feathery curls, and soon it met the ship,
And a breeze struck her. Quick the floating sails
Rose up and drooped again. The wind came on
Fresher; the curls were waves; the sails were filled
Tensely; the vessel righted to her course,
And ploughed the waters; round her prow the foam
Tossed, and went back along her polished sides,
And floated off, bounding the rushing wake,
That seemed to pour in torrents from her stern.
The wind still freshened, and the sails were stretched,
Till the yards cracked. She bent before its force,
And dipped her lee-side low beneath the waves.
Straight out she went to sea, as when a hawk
Darts on a dove, and with a motionless wing
Cuts the light, yielding air. The mountains dipped
Their dark walls to the waters, and the hills
Scarce reared their green tops o'er them. One white point,
On which a lighthouse blazed, alone stood out
In the broad sea, and there he fixed his eye,
Taking his last look of his native shore.
Night wore away, and still the wind blew strong,
And the ship ploughed the waves, which now were heaved
In high and rolling billows. All were glad,
And laughed and shouted as she darted on,
And plunged amid the foam, and tossed it high
Over the deck, as when a strong, curbed steed
Flings the froth from him in his eager race.
All had been dimly star-lit, but the moon,
Late rising, silvered o'er the tossing sea
And lighted up its foam-wreaths, and just threw
One parting glance upon the distant shores.
They met his eye;—the sinking rocks were bright,
And a clear line of silver marked the hills,
Where he had said farewell. A sudden tear
Gushed, and his heart was melted; but he soon
Repressed the weakness, and he calmly watched
The fading vision. Just as it retired
Into the common darkness, on his eyes
Sleep fell, and with his looks turned to his home,
And, dearer than his home, to her he loved,
He closed them, and his thoughts were lost in dreams,
Bright and too glad to be realities.
Calmly he slept, and lived on happy dreams,
Till from the bosom of the boundless sea,
Now spreading far and wide without a shore,
The cloudless sun arose, and he awoke.

The sky was still serene, and from the bed
Of ocean darted forth the glowing sun,
And flashed along the waters. On they sailed:
The wind blew steady, and they saw that sun
Rise, and go down, and set, and still it blew
Freshly and calmly. They had left the shore
Long leagues behind them, and the mid-sea now
Bore them upon its bosom on their way
To lands where other flowers and other trees
Dress out the landscape, and where other men
Walk in the light of heaven. Thither he went,
And none knew, of his kindred, when or where
He had escaped them. They with anxious quest
Sought him, and after long and fruitless search
Believed him dead. Awhile they mourned his loss,
As great ones mourn, and then he passed away
Into oblivion, and they filled his place
In their affections with a gilded toy,
And found their treasures ampler by his death.
Not so with her who loved him; when he fled,
She followed, but soon sank beneath the weight
Of deep and sudden sorrow. He had gone
Over the sea; had sought the dangerous wave,
And might be wrecked, or on some distant shore
Lingering a hopeless captive. To that point
Where the flag waved, she often bent her steps,
And gazed upon the ocean earnestly,
Watching each dim speck on the farthest verge
Of sight, and deeming every cloud a sail,
And every wreath of foam her lover's sign.
Two years had gone away, and she had thus
Sought the high cliff at morning, noon, and night,
And gazed in eager longing till her eye
Was fixed and glazed. Her cheek grew thin and pale;
Her form was wasted; and all knew that sorrow
Preyed on the blossom of her health, and ate
Her life away. A little while, and death
Would come to her deliverance. Little know
The cold, unfeeling crowd how strong the love,
The first, warm love of youth; how long it lives
Unfed and unrequited; how it bears
Absence and cruel scorn, and still looks calm
And patient on the eye that turns aside
And shows its studied coldness,—how much more
It burns and feeds upon the flame of life,
When it was fully met, and found a heart
As warm and ardent, and as bent to hers,
As hers to him. Youth is the time of love;
All other loves are lifeless, and but flowers
Wreathed round decay, and with a livid hue
Blowing upon a grave. The first, fresh love
Dies never wholly; it lives on through pain
And disappointment: often when the heart
Is crushed, and all its sympathies pressed out,
This lingers and awakens, and shines bright,
Even on the borders of a wretched grave.
Unhappy he, who throws that gift away;
Unhappy he, who lets a tender heart,
Bound to him by the earliest ties of love,
Fall from him by his own neglect and die,
Because it met no kindness, and was spurned
Even in the earnest offer. Life soon fades,
And with it love; and when it once has faded,
There is no after bloom, no second spring.
“So passes in the passage of a day
The flower and verdure of our mortal life;
Nor, though the Spring renew her fruits and flowers,
Doth it renew its beauty, but it fades
Once and for ever. Let us pluck the rose
In the unclouded morning of this day,
Which soon will lose its bright serenity.
O, let us pluck the first blown rose of love;
Let us love now in this our fairest youth,
When love can find a full and fond return.”

One evening I had wandered by the shore,
Looking upon the ocean, as it lay
Spread in its beauty round me. 'T was a time
For spirits, all had such serenity.
Scarce had a cloud checkered the autumn sky,
That rose above me in a boundless arch
Of purest azure. All the woods were hung
With many tints, the fading livery
Of life, in which it mourns the coming storms
Of winter, and the quiet winds awoke
Faint dirges in their withered leaves, and breathed
Their sorrows through the groves. My heart felt soft
Under their tender influence. I seemed
A sharer in the grief of sighing winds
And whispering trees. I clomb the rock, and trod
The dying grass that grew upon its brow,
And gazed upon the ocean, now as bright
As in the freshest spring, unchangeable,
Always the same, or only to the force
Of calm and tempest yielding, never old,
And never fading; in its wildest storms
Soon to be calm, and when in sheeted light
Spread to the farthest circle of the sky,
Soon to obey the winds and wake in wrath.

I walked along that rock, and heard the waves
Chafing its foot, and saw the tossing foam
Playing in eddies round it. Then the tide
Had risen, and a wind came from the sea,
Curling the little waves, until they broke
In infant surges on the murmuring shore.
The sky grew dark; and, as I homeward turned,
I saw a woman sitting by the staff
On which the signal hung, with mantle wrapped
Close round her, and with eye intently fixed
On an approaching vessel, as it came
Quickly before the wind, and up the bay
Glided. She followed it with earnest look,
Until it turned a distant point, and drew
Dimly behind the hills, and vanished. Then
She turned again to sea, and long she looked
On the white curls of foam, as if she saw
A signal there; but yet there was no sail
On the dark waters. With a lingering foot
Back she retired, and, often turning, looked
Still earnestly abroad, and found no hope.
I saw her weep, and faintly hang her head,
As a pale lily hangs, when, filled with rain,
After long summer heat and heavy showers,
It bends upon its withered stalk, and sheds
The unwelcome moisture. Slowly she withdrew
Into a thicket, where a trodden path,
Her daily path, led to her father's home.

He saw her fading cheek; he knew the fire
That wasted her; and with a parent's love
He sought to heal her grief, but only made
The wound still deeper. Comfort cannot soothe
The heart, whose life is centred in the thought
Of happy loves once known, and still in hope
Living with a consuming energy.
He found remonstrance fruitless, reason vain;
And therefore, with a kindness which was wise,
He humored her, and let her seek that rock
Unchecked, and only watched, that naught of harm
Might meet her. So she sought it when the snow
Mantled it, and the sea was rudely lashed
By the cold north-wind; but a father's hand
Was near to guard her. It was now divined,
That he whom she had loved had crossed the sea,
And still was living, and would soon return.
Some then were joyous, not with unfeigned joy;
For when they told their hopes, that he would come
From his long wanderings home, they inly felt
A sorrow, which revealed itself, and checked
Often the words of comfort which they gave
To those who wept his loss sincerely, those
Who cannot conquer nature, which will make
A child for ever dear, and through the clouds,
That vice and selfish greatness cast around,
Sometimes will flash abroad, and be revealed.

Winter had passed away, and then Spring came,
Lovely as ever, with her crown of flowers,
And dress of verdure. She was decked with smiles,
And as she danced along the springing turf,
New flowers awoke to welcome her, and birds
Hailed her from bush and forest. Then the sea,
Girt by its greener shores, seemed rolling on
With brighter waves, and the sun sparkled there
With an unusual brilliancy. The earth
Was beautiful, and like the seat of Gods,
Or what we dream of Eden; and all hearts
Were sharers in its gladness. Bird and beast
Felt it, and, as they leaped, or as they flew,
They spake their joy; and even the voiceless woods,
Mute in themselves, were vocal with the winds,
And the low-murmuring breezes through their boughs
Seemed to speak out their still and quiet bliss.
All hearts were glad with the glad season. One
Alone knew naught of pleasure, and the smiles
Of others were a mockery to her,
And told her of the joy that once had been,
But was not, and she could not hope would be.
Hope, by too long deferring, had gone out,
And left her soul in darkness. Still she went
Daily to that one point, and there she gazed
Fixedly on the ocean, till her head
Grew dizzy, and her reason almost went;
And then she wandered home, and wept away
The fever of her brain. A woodbine grew
Over her window, and its leaves shut out
The light, and now its flowers were opening forth
Their sweetness, and the wind that entered there
Came loaded with its perfume. Once she loved
The tufted flowers, and she inhaled their breath
With a deep sense of gladness; but she now
Repelled it as a hateful thing, and wished
The vine were torn and scattered. Every year
A linnet came, and built her cup-like nest
Within that arbor, and she fed her young,
And sang them to their slumbers, and at dawn
Wakened them with her clear and lively note.
She fed the timid creature, till it grew
Familiar, and would sit upon her hand,
And pick the crumbs she gave it; but she now
Neglected it, and when it came, and sought
Her former kindness, she regarded not
Its fluttering and its song. Her heart was chilled
And dead to all its softer sympathies.
It cherished but one feeling,—hopeless love,
Love stronger by endurance, ever growing
With the decay of life and all its powers.

He had been wandering long, and found no rest.
Nothing could tear the image from his soul,
That dwelt there as an ever-present God,
Controlling all his being. He had seen
Nature in a new beauty; and a heart
Free from all other influence had swelled
Beneath the bright enchantment; but he looked
On all the fair variety around
With a cold eye, because he looked alone,
And felt that what he looked on was not seen
By one who had been ever in his walks,
As an attendant spirit, watching all
That lifted him, or soothed him, with a sense
Of kindred awe or pleasure. When alone,
He could not mingle with the glorious things
Of earth and heaven; he could not pass away
Into the open depths of the far sky,
And dwell among its many-colored forms
Of cloud and vapor, where they hung the arch,
As with imperial tapestry, and veiled
The throne of the Omnipotent. The Earth,
Now in its newest spring, all dressed with flowers,
And redolent of roses and of vines
From their wide purple beds, and sunward slopes,
Where the bee murmured, and the early dews
Soon rose in clouds of perfume, as the dawn
Came o'er the pine-clad mountains, and lit up
A world of present life and ancient ruin,
Where the rose bloomed as brightly, and the vine
Shot forth as heavy clusters, and full wreaths
Of ivy twined around each tottering pile,
And mantled arch and column, with its deep,
Luxuriant verdure; all that he beheld
Of ever-growing nature, and of man,
Whose works are fading, and when they decay
Have no restoring energy, but drop
Fragment by fragment into utter ruin,—
All that had waked in other hearts the love
Of ancient glory, and the proud resolve
To be, as they were, glorious, or had filled
The soul with sorrow, and the eyes with tears,
Over their fallen greatness, yet had made
This sorrow partly joyous, by the sight
Of a new life for ever springing round them,
And still as fresh and fragant as when first,
Bright from the quarry, their new temples stood
Proud in the sun, and lifted high their fronts
To the admiring eye of gods and men,—
This had to him no pleasure; he could not
Rase out the deep-fixed passion, which so long
Had been his daily happiness, and formed
And fashioned all his studies and his joys
To this one pure enjoyment. Earth was fair,
And Heaven was glorious, when he heard her say
They were thus fair and glorious; but alone,
They had no form nor color, and were lost
In one dim, melancholy hue of death.
And so with man,—he wandered through the crowd
In solitude, that coldest solitude,
Which tortures, while it chills us. They were gay
And busy, but he heeded not; the great
Rolled by him, and were noticed not; the poor
Pleaded, and yet he listened not;—one thought
Alone went with him, and all other things
Stirred round him like the shadows of a dream.
He would not linger thus; he looked to home,
And her who gave to home a double charm.
He was resolved, and soon again the sea
Received him; and for many days the sun
Beheld him steering to his native shore.

'T was a calm summer evening. One white sail
Moved on the silent water, motionless,
Scarce stealing to the shore. She watched that sail,
And followed it with an inquiring eye,
In every tack it took to catch the wind,
Fancying she saw the signal. Slowly on
It came. The glassy ocean seemed to change
At distance into air; and so the ship
Seemed moving like a bird along the sky.
Sometimes it stood athwart her, and the sails,
Hung loosely on the yards, seemed waving lines
Tinged with the sunset; and again it turned
With prow directed to her, and at once
The broad white canvas threw its silvery sheet
Full on her eye, and glittering in the west.
Nearer it came, but slowly; till at length
Its form was marked distinctly, and she caught
Eagerly, as it waved upon a yard
Near the main topmast, what her wearied eye
Had sought so long, and found not. It was there,—
The signal, one white pennon, with a heart
Stamped in its centre; and at once her joy
Was speechless and overflowing. Fixed, she looked
With trembling earnestness, and down her cheeks
The tears ran fast, and her scarce-moving lips
Had words without a voice. Thus she sat long,
Motionless in the fervor of her joy,
Absorbed in one emotion, which had bound
Her form unto her spirit, and had made
All other powers the ministers to thought.
They hurried through her mind, her first, fond love,
Its many pleasures, hours of early hope
Unclouded by the fear of coming ill,
And present happiness, which, like the dawn
In the sweet month of May, is full of life,
And yet serene and tranquil, budding out
With blossoms of futurity, and spreading
To the bright eye of Heaven the tender flowers,
Where the young fruit lies hidden, till the sun
Ripen it to its full maturity.
These hurried through her mind, and with them came
Long, anxious days, long days of bitterness,
Dark with the fears that weigh upon the heart
Whose love is young and tender, when the chance
Of sea or battle passes o'er the head
Of him who has the secret of her soul.

The sun was setting, and the dazzling orb
Sunk down behind the mountains, darting up
Long rays of golden light into the air,
Like glories round the sacred countenance
In one of Raphael's pictures. All was clear
But one dark cloud, which rose from out the point
Where the storm gathers after sultry days,
And launches forth the lightning. This heaved up
Its dusky billows, and their tips were tinged
With a bright flame, while all below was dark
Fearfully, and it swelled before the wind,
Like the strong canvas of a gallant ship
Standing before the tempest. It just crowned
The hill at sunset; but it now came on,
First slowly, till it rose upon the air,
Frowning, and threw its shadow o'er the earth,
And flashed intensely; then it seemed to move
With a new pace, and every instant swept
Still farther on the sky, and sent its voice
Deep-roaring with the mingled sound of winds
Amid the shaken forests, and the peals
Re-echoed from the mountains. Now the sea
Darkened beneath its shadow, and it curled
Without a breath, as if it shook in fear
Before the coming tempest. She looked wild,
First on the cloud, then on the ship, which now
Steered to a cove behind a sandy point,
On which the lighthouse stood, but yet the winds
Were light and baffling, and against her course;
And so the sails flapped loosely, and she rocked
Motionless on the crisping waves, and lay
Waiting, a victim, for the threatening storm.
Then, as she looked with an intenser gaze,
She saw the sweeps put out, and every arm
Strained to the effort, but their strength availed not
To send them to a haven. Then her heart
Sank, and her hopes were darkened, till her form
Shook with her fears. The clouds rolled on the wind
In mingling billows, and the lightnings leaped
From point to point; then in an instant burst
The thunder-crash, and one undying roar
Filled the wide air. At last the cold wind came,
And the flag streamed and quivered, and her robes
Flew lightly round her. First, short broken waves
Rose on the bay; their tops were white with foam,
And on they hurried, like the darting flight
Of sea-mews when they fly before the storm.
She looked upon the ship; all hands aloft
Took in the sails, and scarcely were they furled,
When the blast struck her. To its force she bowed,
And as the waves rose now with mountain swell,
Upward she sprang, and then she rushed away
Into the gulfy waters. Now the storm
Stood o'er her, and the rain and hail came down
In torrents. All was darkness; through the air
The gushing clouds streamed onward, and they took
The nearest headlands from her straining sight,
And made the sea invisible, but when
A flash revealed it, and she saw the surge
Pouring upon the rocks below, all foam
And fury. What a mingled sound above,
Around her, and beneath her! One long peal
Seemed to pervade the heavens; and one wide rush
Of winds and rain poured by her; and the sound
Of the dashed billows on the rocks below
Rang like a knell. No vessel met her then;
They lit the signal lamp, she saw it not;
They fired the gun, but in the louder roar
Of waters it was drowned, and they were left
Alone to struggle with the warring waves.
A cry went forth, “A ship was on the rocks!”
And hundreds crowded to the shore to aid
The suffering crew, and fires were kindled there,
But all availed not,—not a man was saved.
The storm went swiftly by; and soon the winds
Subsided, and the western sky shone out,
And light glanced o'er the waters. On a reef,
That stretched from off the cliffs along that shore,
The broken wreck lay scattered; and at last
One and another corse came floating up,
But none were saved. They wandered o'er the sands;
And here a bale lay stranded, there an oar,
And there a yard. Just as the cloud had flown
Over the zenith, and the moon shone out
From its dark bosom, she went down the rocks,
And bent her trembling steps along the shore.

The moon looked out in sadness, and her light
Threw a faint glimmering on the broken waves,
And paled the dying watch-fires, as they fell
Flickering away, and showed the fearful looks
Of those who watched the wreck, and stood to save.
The waves still rolled tremendously, and burst
Loud thundering on the rocks: they tossed the foam
High up the hills, and ploughed the moving sands,
Sweeping the fragments forth, then rushing back
With a devouring strength, that cleared the shore.
The west shone fair; the evening star was bright,
And many glittering stars were gathering round,
Set in a deep, dark blue. The distant hills
Showed faintly, and long wreaths of mist arose
Curling around their sides, like cottage smoke
Sent from the hidden valley in the dawn.
O'er all the moon presided, and her face,
Though clear, was darkened, and it filled the heart
Of the beholder with a silent awe,
And a cold, heavy sadness. On the sea
Her light descended, and a silver wake
Came from beneath her onward to the shore,
Crossing the bursting waves. The cloud still lay
Dark-rolling in the east, and often sent
Pale flashes forth; and still the thunder growled
Fainter and fainter, as the storm moved on
Over the distant ocean. There the moon
Lit a faint bow, that spanned the cloud, and seemed
Just fading into darkness. All was still,
But the contending waters, and the drops,
Now trickling from the forest leaves, were heard
Pattering upon the grass; and as a sign
That a sure calm had come, the fire-fly lit
Its lamp along the meadows, and the chirp
Of the green locust from the thicket told
How tranquil was the air. A solemn fear
Went through the hearts of all, as they surveyed
The corpses, but their faces all were strange.
They took them from the beach, and decently
Conveyed them to a shelter, there to wait
The last sad offices. Alone she went
Still farther on the shore, until she came
Where a long reef stood out, on which the ship
Was broken; and the very reef where he
First went on board, despairing and resolved.
One feeling led her onward, and sustained
Her wasted body (which was sinking fast
Beneath the desperate conflict) with the strength
Of madness, and her easy steps betrayed not
The woe that wrung within her. She had seen
Her lover standing far upon that reef;
Had seen the boat go there, and bear him off,
And as the ship went out to sea had fainted.
Therefore she sought that reef, with a wild hope—
Such often tokens madness—that she there
Might find him safely rescued. She now stood
On the projecting rocks, and as she threw
Her dark eye downward to a glimmering cove,
She saw him. Lifted by the swelling wave,
He seemed yet living, and a shrill laugh told
Her glad but wandering spirit. Down she leaped
And clasped him;—he was motionless and cold.
She kissed him, but he opened not his eyes,
And smiled not. Then she spake the much-loved name,
With an endearing tone, but none replied.
“Art thou not living? Thou wert once so kind,
Thy smile so happy, and thy kiss so warm!
But thou art cold now, and thine eye darts not
Upon me, as it wont to do; thy lips
Move not, thou hast no voice, no welcome for me.”
She raised her head, and as she caught the moon
Half veiled in vapor, from her glassy eye
The tears stole down, and with a quivering voice,
Faint as a night-wind through the falling leaves
In autumn, “It is over then,” she spake;
“The dream is over; he indeed is wrecked,
As I had fancied long; he cannot wake;
This is not sleep; there is no life-blood here;
No flush upon his forehead; he is cold,
And will not wake again. He said to me,
Farewell, perhaps for ever;—O, too true
The last fond words at parting!—but for ever—
Ah, no!—I meet him,—I have lingered long,—
He calls me on my journey,—he awaits me,
And why do I delay?—I come, my love;—
Only a moment, and I come, my love.”
Suddenly she sprang forth, with outstretched arms,
And a wild look, that told there was no hope;
A few short steps, she paused, and then sank down,
As a flower sinks upon the new-mown turf,
Beautiful even in death. They came, and raised
The dying girl. Her loose locks floated wide;
And on her slender neck her languid head
Drooped, and her eyes were closed. Her lips still moved
With the last breath, and then were still. At once
Her madness was no more. A tender smile
Played round her, and her looks were full of love
And gentleness, such as when first she met,
And first awoke his love. She long had borne
The conflict, and with desperate energy
Been nerved to all endurance; but this shock
Subdued her, and her spirit had departed,
And well they knew its passage was in peace.
They both were buried, where they first had met,
Beneath one stone, and they were wept by all.
A willow grows above them, with its boughs
Drooping, as if in sorrow; and at night
A sweet bird sings there, and the village girls
Say 't is a spirit's voice. They dress that grave
Each Sabbath-day with roses; and they strew
Fresh violets there on May-day, and then sing
A simple tale of true love, till their hearts
Are swelling, and their cheeks are bathed in tears.
Love knows no rank, and when two hearts would meet
On earth, but cannot, they will meet in Heaven.
All hearts that love are equal in the grave.