(Written in her fifteenth year.)

As he spoke, he beheld on the sea-beaten strand
A form,'twas so airy, so light,
He could almost have sworn by the faith of his land
That an angel was wand'ring 'mid rocks and thro' sand,
'Neath the moon-beam so fitfully bright.

He paus'd, as the bittern scream'd loud o'er his head,
One moment he paus'd on the shore,
To mark the wild wave as it dash'd from its bed,
Tossing high the white spray from its foam-spangled head,
With a fitful and deafening roar.

He caught the wild notes of a song, on the wind,
Ere the tempest-god bore them away,
And they told of a tortured and desperate mind,
To despair's dark shadows for ever resign'd,
Of a heart, once hope-lighted and gay.

The bright moon was hid in the breast of the storm,
And darkness and terror drew round,
Yet still he could mark her light fanciful form,
As she roam'd round the wild rocks, devoid of alarm,
Tho' the fiend of the whirlwind frown'd.

Oh tell me, he cried, what spirit so light,
So beautiful e'en in despair,
Is wand'ring alone 'mid the storm of the night,
When to guide her no star in the heaven is bright,
No gleam save the lightning's red glare!

'T is young Imanel, answered his guide with a sigh,
The rich, the belov'd and the gay,
Who is doom'd from her friends and her country to fly,
For she lov'd, and she wedded Alonzo the spy,
Who has left her and fled far away.

Alonzo the spy! — and he darted away
With the speed of a shooting star,
Nor heeded the call of his guide to stay,
But toward the poor lone one he bounded away,
She had fled to the sea-beach afar.

One glance of the forked lightning's
Play'd bright round the fair one's face,
And it beam'd on Alonzo, for he was there,
And it beam'd on his bride, on his Imanel dear,
Clasp'd at length in his joyful embrace.