All night the storm had raged, nor ceased, nor paused, When, as day broke, the Maid, through misty air, 30 Espies far off a Wreck, amid the surf, 35 40 Daughter and Sire through optic-glass discern, 44 Her earnest tone, and look beaming with faith, And inwardly sustained by silent prayer, 56 That woman's fortitude-so tried, so proved May brighten more and more! True to the mark, They stem the current of that perilous gorge, Their arms still strengthening with the strengthening heart, 61 Though danger, as the Wreck is neared, becomes More imminent. Not unseen do they approach; And rapture, with varieties of fear 65 70 Incessantly conflicting, thrills the frames That no one breathing should be left to perish, Placed in the little boat, then o'er the deep 80 Send forth a song of triumph. Waves and 84 Exult in this deliverance wrought through faith In Him whose Providence your rage hath served! Ye screaming Sea-mews, in the concert join! And would that some immortal Voice-a Voice Fitly attuned to all that gratitude Breathes out from floor or couch, through pallid lips 90 Of the survivors to the clouds might bear— Blended with praise of that parental love, Beneath whose watchful eye the Maiden grew Pious and pure, modest and yet so brave, Though young so wise, though meek so resolute 95 Might carry to the clouds and to the stars, name! XX. 1843. THE RUSSIAN FUGITIVE. PART I. ENOUGH of rose-bud lips, and eyes Earth wants not beauty that may scorn A likening to frail flowers; Yea, to the stars, if they were born For seasons and for hours. Through Moscow's gates, with gold unbarred, Whom such high beauty could not guard By stealth she passed, and fled as fast Nor stopped, till in the dappling east 5 15 Seven days she lurked in brake and field, At length, in darkness travelling on, 20 "To put your love to dangerous proof I come," said she, "from far; 25 For I have left my Father's roof, In terror of the Czar." No answer did the Matron give, She led the Lady to a seat Bathed duteously her wayworn feet, The cricket chirped, the house-dog dozed, And on that simple bed, Where she in childhood had reposed, When she, whose couch had been the sod, Had breathed a sigh of thanks to God, While over her the Matron bent Sleep sealed her eyes, and stole Feeling from limbs with travel spent, 30 35 40 45 Refreshed, the Wanderer rose at morn, Have unto Heaven and You been paid: "Have you forgot"-and here she smiled- You lavished on me when a child I was your lambkin, and your bird, Light words, that were more lightly heard "The blossom you so fondly praised Is come to bitter fruit; 50 55 60 65 A mighty One upon me gazed ; I spurned his lawless suit, And must be hidden from his wrath : 70 You, Foster-father dear, Will guide me in my forward path; I may not tarry here! "I cannot bring to utter woe Your proved fidelity." “Dear Child, sweet Mistress, say not so! 75 For you we both would die." Nay, nay, I come with semblance feigned And cheek embrowned by art; Yet, being inwardly unstained, With courage will depart.” 80 |