With earnest pains unchecked by dread She moulds her sight-eluding den His task accomplished to his mind, Creep forth, and through the forest wind 115 120 Few words they speak, nor dare to slack 125 Till they have crossed the quaking marsh, The sun above the pine-trees showed A bright and cheerful face; 130 And Ina looked for her abode, The promised hiding-place; She sought in vain, the Woodman smiled; Nor roof, nor window ;—all seemed wild 135 Advancing, you might guess an hour, Is masked, "if house it be or bower," As shaggy as were wall and roof With branches intertwined, So smooth was all within, air-proof, 140 "Father of all, upon thy care Be thou my safeguard!"—such her prayer When joy had passed away, And smiles, fond efforts of distress To hide what they betray! The prayer is heard, the Saints have seen, Diffused through form and face, Resolves devotedly serene; That monumental grace Of Faith, which doth all passions tame 160 165 170 And shows in the untrembling frame 175 PART III. 'Tis sung in ancient minstrelsy Till Daphne, desperate with pursuit Of his imperious love, At her own prayer transformed, took root, Then did the Penitent adorn His brow with laurel green; And 'mid his bright locks never shorn No meaner leaf was seen; And poets sage, through every age, 180 185 The bay; and conquerors thanked the Gods, With laurel chaplets crowned. Into the mists of fabling Time Of Beauty, that disdains to climb That scorns temptation; power defies Where mutual love is not; And to the tomb for rescue flies When life would be a blot. 190 195 200 To this fair Votaress a fate More mild doth Heaven ordain Upon her Island desolate; And words, not breathed in vain, Might tell what intercourse she found, 205 What birds she tamed, what flowers the ground Sent forth her peace to cheer. To one mute Presence, above all, By Russian usage hung— The Mother-maid, whose countenance bright With love abridged the day; And, communed with by taper light, Chased spectral fears away. And oft, as either Guardian came, Might any common friendship shame, 210 215 220 Was like the crowding of the year But when she of her Parents thought, 22.5 And, if with all things not enwrought, That trouble still is near. And set her Spirit free From the altar of this sacrifice, Or gentle Nature close her eyes, 240 Yet, when above the forest-glooms The white swans southward passed, High as the pitch of their swift plumes In phrase that now with echoes soft She saw the hereditary bowers, She heard the ancestral stream; The Kremlin and its haughty towers PART IV. THE ever-changing Moon had traced 255 260 A shout thrice sent from one who chased Bounding through branches interlaced, The fainting creature took the marsh, 265 While plovers screamed with tumult harsh Above his antlered head; This, Ina saw; and, pale with fear, Shrunk to her citadel; 270 The desperate deer rushed on, and near The tangled covert fell. |