More fresh, more bright, than princes wear; For what one moment flung aside, Another could repair: What good or evil have they seen Since I their pastime witnessed here, They met me in a genial hour, Of discontent, and check the birth Of thoughts with better thoughts at strife, Since parting Innocence bequeathed Soft clouds, the whitest of the year, Sailed through the sky; the brooks ran clear; The thoughts with which it then was cheered; Or, if such faith must needs deceive, Ye who within the blameless mind - Kind Spirits! may we not believe Destined, whate'er their earthly doom, 1817. XX. GYPSIES. YET are they here, the same unbroken knot Only their fire seems bolder, yielding light, Their bed of straw and blanket-walls. Twelve hours, twelve bounteous hours are gone, while I Have been a traveller under open sky, Much witnessing of change and cheer, The weary Sun betook himself to rest; Outshining like a visible God The glorious path in which he trod. And now, ascending, after one dark hour And one night's diminution of her power, Behold the mighty Moon! this way She looks as if at them, but they Regard not her.- O better wrong and strife (By nature transient) than this torpid life, Life which the very stars reprove, As on their silent tasks they move! Yet, witness all that stirs in heaven or earth! In scorn I speak not; they are what their birth And breeding suffer them to be ; Wild outcasts of society! XXI. RUTH. WHEN Ruth was left half desolate, 1807 And she had made a pipe of straw, As if she from her birth had been Beneath her father's roof, alone She seemed to live; her thoughts her own; Herself her own delight; Pleased with herself, nor sad, nor gay; And, passing thus the livelong day, She grew to woman's height. There came a Youth from Georgia's shore,— A military casque he wore, With splendid feathers drest; He brought them from the Cherokees; The feathers nodded in the breeze, And made a gallant crest. From Indian blood you deem him sprung: But no! he spake the English tongue, And bore a soldier's name; And, when America was free From battle and from jeopardy, He 'cross the ocean came. With hues of genius on his cheek, The moon, the glory of the sun, And streams that murmur as they run, He was a lovely Youth! I guess The panther in the wilderness And when he chose to sport and play, No dolphin ever was so gay Upon the tropic sea. Among the Indians he had fought, And with him many tales he brought Such tales as told to any maid By such a Youth, in the green shade, He told of girls -a happy rout! Who quit their fold with dance and shout, Their pleasant Indian town, To gather strawberries all day long; When daylight is gone down. He spake of plants that hourly change Their blossoms, through a boundless range Of intermingling hues; With budding, fading, faded flowers, They stand the wonder of the bowers From morn to evening dews. |