University of Virginia Library

Lo! a woman strangely fair,
With her wildly-streaming hair,
All alone, companionless,
In a savage wilderness:—
Now she kneels with arms stretched out,
Now she strangely roams about;
Underneath a thorn-tree's shade
Wailing infant she has laid,
Like another Hagar flying,
That she may not see him dying.
—‘From that cry—that cry of pain—
Still I flee, but still in vain:
Whither, whither shall I fly?
All the fountains are drawn dry
Of my bosom utterly;
With its milk my child at first,
Till that wholly failed, I nursed:
Then the blood away it drew,
And now that has failed me too.
Oh! what helps it that the twain,
Who were charged to end my pain,
Have withheld the murderous knife
From my own and infant's life,
(While I promised never more
To appear men's eyes before,)
If they leave us here to die
With a longer agony?
—O my husband, other thought
Was it that within me wrought,
Then when from my height of place
Fell I to that strange disgrace,
And that scorn extreme must prove:
In thy faith and in thy love
Found I still a refuge strong
From that uttermost of wrong.
'Twas enough the hours were flowing,
'Twas enough the days were going,
That would bring thee to my side,
All that dark mist scattering wide.
—God and Saviour! and thine ear
Doth it not our crying hear?
God and Saviour! is thine eye
Closëd on our misery?
Are the springs of love divine
Dry as are these breasts of mine?
When my little one has died,
What have I on earth beside?’

Round she gazed, if anywhere
Dawned a glimpse of comfort there:
Not a human step was near,
Not a human voice to cheer,
And no Angel-comforter
In her anguish spake to her.
Oh! how darkly desolate,
Oh! how full of scorn and hate
At that moment seemed all nature—
Every mute and senseless creature;
All upon her misery
Gazing with unpitying eye.
Danced the light leaves in the air,
As deriding her despair;
Echoes came in idle mocks,
Tossed from the unfeeling rocks;
Merrily the stream tripped on,
Gloriously the gay sun shone,
Stretched the breadth of azure sky
Like a banner upon high:
But no pity anywhere
Might she find, no love, no care:
Dark the earth, forlorn of love,
But, oh! darker heaven above—
God's own heaven seemed darker yet.
But this deadliest thought is met:
She hath prayed, and doth repel
This the deadliest shaft of hell;
She hath prayed, and not in vain;
Faint returns to her again;
And when now the feeble crying,
The faint moanings of the dying,
Faint and fainter, wholly cease,
God she thanks that all is peace;
That her infant findeth rest
On a loving Saviour's breast.
She with all is reconciled;
Once will look upon her child,
Then its little body lay
In the deepest grave she may.

Near she draws, and yet more near,
Not a stirring may she hear:
But what other sight her eyes
Welcomed with a glad surprise!
Near the boy a gentle doe
Knelt, as white as mountain snow,
And with eager lips the child
From that loving creature mild
Drew the sweetest nourishment,
Which, for its own offspring sent,
Now to him it freely lent.
When the mother from above
Bent on him her looks of love,
He at length began to stir,
Did his little hands to her
Stretch, and turn in gladsome wise
On her face his laughing eyes;
What sweet tears from hers were shed!
What new faith in her was bred!
Here will she abide, until
Life shall finish, and life's ill.
Housing in a hollow cave,
Shelter when the wild winds rave;
Here, where God this grace did send,
She will calmly wait the end.