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The ever-changing Moon had traced
Twelve times her monthly round, When through the unfrequented Waste
Was heard a startling sound;
At speed a wounded deer,
And where the wood was clear.
The fainting creature took the marsh,
And toward the Island fled,
Above his antlered head;
Shrunk to her citadel;
The tangled covert fell.
Across the marsh, the game in view,
The Hunter followed fast,
A death-proclaiming blast;
Came forth the Maid-In me
Pursued by destiny !
"From your deportment, Sir! I deem That
you have worn a sword, And will not hold in light esteem
A suffering woman's word;
I might have lain concealed,
Not even to you revealed.
"Tears might be shed, and I might pray,
Crouching and terrified,
You would in mystery hide;
The knee that bends to adore
T'his ask I, and no more!
“I speak not of the winter's cold,
For summer's heat exchanged, While I have lodged in this rough hold,
From social life estranged; Nor yet of trouble and alarms :
High Heaven is my defence; And every season has soft arms
For injured Innocence.
« From Moscow to the Wilderness
It was my
choice to come,
Lest virtue should be harbourless,
And honour want a home;
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And happy were I, if the Czar
Retain his lawless will,
"Are you the Maid," the Stranger cried,
“ From Gallic parents sprung, Whose vanishing was rumoured wide,
Sad theme for every tongue ; Who foiled an Emperor's eager quest ?
You, Lady, forced to wear These rude habiliments, and rest,
Your head in this dark lair !"
But wonder, pity, soon were quelled ;
And in her face and mien
Without a veil between:
Kindled ’mid rapturous tears ;
As on the wings of years.
“Such bounty is no gift of chance,"
Exclaimed he; “righteous Heaven,
To me the charge hath given.
Is stormy and self-willed ;
His violence is stilled.
wish the course,
Good, only good, can flow."
Was eager to depart,
To the Maiden's filial heart.
Light was his step,-his hopes, more light,
Kept pace with his desires;
Of Moscow's glittering spires.
To the lorn Fugitive
As sovereign power could give.
O more than mighty change! If e'er
Amazement rose to pain,
Of something void and vain ; 'Twas when the Parents, who had mourned
So long the lost as dead,
The household floor to tread.
Soon gratitude gave way to love
Within the Maiden's breast; Delivered and Deliverer move
In bridal garments drest;
Meek Catherine had her own reward ;
The Ozar bestowed a dower; And universal Moscow shared
The triumph of that hour.
Flowers strewed the ground; the nuptial feast
Was held with costly state;
The Foster-parents sate;
They shrank not into shade;