Along a bushy slope, amongst the cliffs,
Near, where its head a rugged upland lifts,
A living fountain sends a crystal rill,
Meand'ring, ruffling, gurgling down the hill;
Then o'er its pebbly bed midst thickets winds,
And through the tangled sedge its passage finds.
Then smooth along through verdant meads it strays,
And opes its bosom to the golden blaze;
At length grown deep and swell'd by confluent streams,
It spreads a lake that like an ocean seems.
On either side, hills, crown'd with forests, rise,
Whose lofty tops associate with the skies;
Oft courting heavy-laden clouds to bow,
And drop a blessing on the vales below.
O! how in youth, at morn or eventide,
I lov'd to saunter the smooth lake beside,
And haply with some mate, of sport in search,
Hook from his wonted haunt the red-finn'd perch!
The tyrant pike, too, and the spotted trout,
Rotund and large, with transports we drew out.
Or, as we went to hunt the hare,
To set the trap, or fix the snare;
Where 'mongst the woods the wild-bees humm'd,
And, heard remote, the partridge drumm'd;
What joyful sports and seasons gone—
Youth passes never to return!
Or when the cool airs lift their caves,
Refresh'd the day, and woke the waves,
On board some barge, the fair to please,
With what delight we caught the favouring breeze!
Fann'd by zephyr, young and sprightly,
With a graceful motion, lightly,
Wav'd the forest, far and wide,
Nodding with majestic pride;
While the leaves, with rustling noise,
Added to our social joys;
And, all around, a grateful clime,
Where cultur'd fields, and rude, combin'd,
And prospects fair, and scenes sublime,
With useful thoughts supply'd the thinking mind.
Beside the lake a cottage stands;
An ample range its front commands;
And Cora, loveliest nymph of all the glades,
Adorn'd its haunts, and charm'd the rural shades.
O, she was fair! her modest aspect shone
Expressive of a mind of heavenly tone;
No pencil of the nicest tint could trace
Her eye's divinity, her features' grace;
No words describe with what a nameless ease
Her peerless manners never fail'd to please;
Where'er she mov'd, she seem'd a beam so bright,
One might have thought an angel were in sight.
I cannot tell one half:—in her combin'd
What chastest fancy paints, to please the mind;
And, though of beauty's magic power possess'd,
Not a vain thought she harbour'd in her breast;
And, (strange to tell!) endow'd with so much grace,
She deem'd herself th' unworthiest of her race.
Oft roaming near, in quest of woodland game,
A village youth, the fam'd Rhinaldo, came;
With fearful noise he made the woods resound,
And oft the damsel started at the sound.
From close behind him, as he fir'd his gun,
His yelping dog in eager transport run;
And, full of triumph if he caught the prey,
Convey'd it to his host without delay.
Trampling up a rugged steep,
In haste retire th' affrighted sheep,
Halt and turn to see what harm
Causes such a dread alarm.
If attack'd, the madded ram,
With brazen front, defends his dam,
Stamps the foot, and buts the knock,
Champion of the trembling flock;
While by frequent starts the bell
Gingles o'er the sounding dell.
But oft the youth, in voice of sweetest turns,
Woke mountain echo from the rocks and urns;
Or, by the magic of his vocal flute,
In mute suspense detain'd the gazing brute.
Such dulcet melody he breath'd along,
The birds hopp'd round, forgetful of their song;
Hush'd was the wind, the rill forebore its noise,
And list'ning silence stood entranc'd with joys.
Smooth was the flood; declining to his bed,
O'er western skies the sun carnation spread;
Irradiate crimson on the lake repos'd,
Charming its bosom ere eve's curtain clos'd;
Down came the shadows from the mountain's height;
Soft dusky vapours sooth'd the beams of light;
The weary songster to his roost retir'd;
From the dark grove the whippoorwill respir'd.
Sunk had the sun; and lo! the full-orb'd moon
Was wandering up to her nocturnal noon;
What time the virgin sought the adjacent wood,
Her wonted haunt, to indulge her heavenly mood.
Thus she began: Hail! ancient, hallow'd groves!
Your venerable gloom my heart approves!
Gladly I come to pass a musing hour
In the cool shades of your inviting bower!
Seraphs of light! who hover on the wing,
Guardians of virtue, your kind influence bring!
Holiest of Beings! (then her lips begun,)
Imbue me with the spirit of thy Son!
Beneath thy banner me from harm protect,
Forgive my sins, and all my steps direct!
She then revolv'd on what the world calls bliss,
Which from experience she had prov'd amiss;
That common friendship has, like riches, wings,
And fashionable life a thousand stings;
That, in the scales of scandal and esteem,
'Tis self-deceit to expect a level beam;
The first (it is so gross) the last outweighs,
And lightens every deed that merits praise.
She spoke; meanwhile from heaven the stars so bright,
And from her cloud the silver queen of night,
Look'd through the trees, and saw the damsel there,
And smil'd upon “the fairest of the fair.”
The thicket, interspers'd with light and shade,
A checker'd scene and motley group display'd—
'Twas autumn—thousand insects all among,
In oft repeated swells the welkin rung.
While musing there, soft slumber weigh'd
Her weary senses to repose,
Till a small voice awoke the maid—
“He who shall save thy life shall be thy spouse.”
The vision gone, the words return,
Distinct to her reflection's view,
With heavenly flame her feelings burn;
When, ranging thus the clause,
She fains another meaning, true,
“My soul is life, my Saviour is my spouse.”
But, still, without apparent cause,
The Oracle was heard again
In softest syllables to move;
Repeating o'er the former strain,
“He who shall save thy life shall be thy spouse.”
So, oft reflecting, often musing,
Thinking what the presage meant;
Without the least apparent chusing,
Or a seemingly intent;
She, by involuntary laws,
Frequent pronounc'd the vision'd clause.—
It seem'd like answer; as when round
Echo returns the noise of sound.
At length, bound homeward from his sport,
Rhinaldo now, to make the distance short,
An unfrequented path pursu'd,
That pierc'd this ancient, solitary wood.
When from some bush a noise he heard,
As 'twere the rustling of a bird.
Instant he stopp'd, and gazing spy'd,
Half hid the leafy boughs between,
A female form of blooming mein,
Fair as a fabled sylvan queen;
A lovelier never shone a bride.
As when the moon through clouds appears,
So she; all beautiful in fears.
At first a sweet surprise she show'd,
Her blushes in his favour glow'd.
In silent gaze her eye to meet,
He feels the force her charms impart;
No sight e'er seem'd to sense so sweet;
A thousand hopes and fears assail his heart.
Still half her beauty, as in shrouds,
Obstructing foliages conceal'd;
Through pendent locks her eyes, reveal'd,
Shone like two stars that peep through clouds.
His prying fancy, spelling out new charms,
Brought to his mind a thousand hid alarms;
So what her modesty would fain deny,
Seem'd twice as fair to thought's intrusive eye.
Advancing now in smiling look,
Thus from his lips his accents broke:
Say, whence art thou, my gentle maid?
Thou beam amidst the moonlight shade!
If I am no intruder here,
Nymph of the forest, O declare!
In city born, the Maid reply'd,
I now in yonder cot reside;
My early life in affluence flow'd,
Where fortune, kind, her gifts bestow'd;
Until the radiant morning beam,
That deck'd my youth's smooth flowing stream,
Darken'd by clouds, departed like a dream.
Thus left in bloom of life to mourn
A father gone, (and never to return!)
I pass'd the day in boding fears,
And drown'd the night in sorrow's tears.
No kindred soul, save one, was there,
My breast to sooth, my woes to share;
No sister to dispel my care;—
And many a look that once seem'd warm
With fondly friendship's seraph charm,
Sudden grew cold. A mother cheers
My sadly thoughts, and mingles tears with tears.
At length our small resources fail;
Our mansion sold, we left the town,
Avoiding scowling friendship's frown,
And bought yon Cottage of the Vale.
There on a mound, a rural seat,
A pleasant view, a sweet retreat,
Live we in peace, and food obtain
By such employments as our needles gain.
Nothing contents on earth I find,
Like a sweet solace of the mind.
She spoke; then he: But fear'st thou not, sweet lass,
In these dark melancholy cells,
Where oft the boding corm'rant yells,
Away from home thy lonely hours to pass?
Home I admire, the maid replied;
Dear to my heart my parent seems;
Yet oft, at fall of eventide,
I love in these lone haunts to hide,
Nor dread the boding night-bird's screams.
But when resound the lark's shrill peals;
When o'er the world the dayspring steals,
I love to ramble o'er the flowery fields.
She said; when thus the youth return'd,
While rapture in his bosom burn'd:
The worthiest of thy sex thou art!
Nay, something more than human dwells
Within the foldings of thy heart,
Or fear would keep thee from these awful cells!
Though I with frequent footsteps roam
O'er the wild woods, or fields in bloom;
I most at home should take my share,
If loveliness like thine were there.
And 'twere my heart's devoted pride,
Could I but call thee—durst I say—my bride?
A conscious blush, with passion fraught,
Suffus'd her visage as he gaz'd;
For she had heard his virtues prais'd;
And he had her acquaintance sought.
Silent they stood; till, full of charm,
Such as might saints of light admire;
Or such as might a stoic warm
With a celestial fire;
Cora replied:
O, could I right from wrong discern,
And, of myself, decide,
I could not but as Heaven allows!
Take for an answer this return:
“He who shall save my life shall be my spouse.”
Think me not rude, the youth rejoin'd;
Vain flattering words which courtiers choose,
I from my soul abhor to use;
As soon might grow the tyger kind.
In truth thee greatly I revere;
And when in future thou shalt hear,
Reft of his mate, the turtle dove,
O think, so sacred is my love!
Wert thou in peril, I would rush to thee,
Though wrathful vengeance should prohibit me!
Nay, pass the front of horror with disdain,
Thee to arrest from harm, or save from pain!
A dovelike sympathy now took control,
And o'er her visage glow'd the feeling soul.
Not with diviner beams Aurora shows
Joy in her rosy features, wet with dews:
Not with more charm seems verdant spring in bloom,
When fragrant nature breathes divine perfume.
Now side by side, along they rove,
Silent, so fill'd with magic power of love;
Till at the cottage door they stand—
He begg'd a draught of cooling drink;
When, turning with an aspect bland,
She tript it to a living spring,
Spouting beneath the mountain's brink;
And had the bliss the cup to bring,
And he to take from her enchanting hand.
Trembling he drank; he thank'd the Maid,
While him a courteous look she paid,
Bowing submiss at what he said,
Taking the cup in both her hands;
But, as Rhinaldo turn'd his steps away,
He so reluctant seem'd to part;
She wish'd, withheld by silken bands,
He had prolong'd his stay,
And thought she saw a tear-drop start.
May horror seize the wretch, one day,
Who seeks, with base perfidious views,
To win attachment to abuse,
To violate, to triumph, to betray!
The man, so infamous, so low,
To 'self himself shall prove a foe.
For while, when round thick darkness broods,
He hears the hawk's yell 'mongst the woods;
Or, in his sleep, the mastiff's growl,
Or, loud, the mountain mad-wolf's howl;
Nay, while dire whims reflection brews,
The creeking hinge, the white cat's mews;
Will not his fancy conjure up a ghost
Of horrid aspect, or a host
Of ghastly goblins, grinning spite,
To vex his haggard soul by night?
And should, when keen convictions start,
He blunt each pang upon his heart;
Should he the sense of guilt dispel,
When forc'd upon himself to dwell;
Say, can his stout heart think to brave,
Impenitent, the horrors of the grave?
And when the burning, dire disease,
Anon, shall on his vitals seize,
Producing horrible distress,
Think ye that man will go to happiness?
But, with the youth that decks my strain,
It was not so:—he liv'd a swain,
Such as a sire to virtue prone,
Might as a son delight to own,
Belov'd wherever he was known,
And whose esteem the virtuous sought to gain.
Now fly, ye lingering hours, away!
Hasten, O time! and bring th' expected day!
At length, beneath the solar ray,
Upon the lake a barge is seen,
Where, face to face, in smiling mien,
The mutual sexes shine in vestments gay.
The waves are blue, the fields are green,
The breeze expands the whiten'd sails,
While social intercourse prevails,
And bears them gently far away.
As when a swan, in buoyant pride,
Launches his bosom on the tide;
And, moving on with viewless force,
Wheels with a swelling curve his course;
Well manag'd thus, the barge with ease,
Rides gracefully before the breeze.
Lo! now direct, they glide with speed,
Along the shore where spreads the mead,
Where, from the crystal water's bed,
Pebbles reflect the twinkling beam,
Or where the finny species seem
Fond of much sport, and void of dread.
Athwart, about, they gently swim,
While just beneath the surface lies
The greedy tyrant of the stream,
And, darting, takes them by surprise.
Now looking round her, Harriot cries,
O see! how alter'd now, how strange,
The back-ground seems in unaccustom'd range!
The cot, half hid behind the wood,
Is all at once remov'd from where it stood;
The mountain swims, the shores recede,
The boat stands still; along her side,
With rapid force the waters glide,
And giddiness has seiz'd my head.
She said and ceas'd; when, in command,
Rhinaldo steer'd direct to land;
They quit the barge with lively speed,
And ramble o'er the verdant mead,
Pick various plums, select fair flowers,
And laugh away the social hours:—
While all the time, with special care,
(For in his breast soft passion burn'd,)
Rhinaldo sought to please the fair,
Till evening came, and they return'd.
The time pass'd pleasant like a song,
Rhinaldo courted, waited, long,
And oft, with delicate applause,
He nam'd his suit, and urg'd his cause:
Till the fair Maid, at length, reply'd:
But when she would say yes, deny'd:
For destiny had plann'd it so,
'Twas Cora's duty to say no!
But spoke it in such softly way,
It did not seem to mean like nay.
She said she wish'd his friendship still:
And, under that disguise,
Rhinaldo hoped to win the prize,
Nor press'd the Maid against her will.
And, if a cautious dame should say,
Or hint a fear, he might betray;
He, with a brow serene,
(As sometimes answers man his wife,)
Shook, as he laugh'd, the thought away;
For honour was as dear to him as life.
At length beside the lake one day,
Where oft the nymphs were wont to stray,
As Cora walk'd with Harriot, (sad to tell!)
The bank gave way, and Cora fell.
Harriot, distracted, knew not what to do,
But scream'd aloud, and tow'rds the cottage flew.
See how she flies! and, like a frighted fawn,
Leaps o'er a fence, and darts across the lawn!
Propitious Heaven! all frantic with despair,
Inly she cries, O save! O hear my prayer!
Onward she hied, but hied in vain;
For, ere she could return again,
Rhinaldo, sent by Heaven to save,
Had hasten'd to the spot in time;
Had plung'd into the lake, sublime,
And borne the drowning virgin from the wave.
Twice had she sunk; he seiz'd her hair,
Then rais'd her gasping person from despair.
With lively transport in his eyes,
Joy glads my soul, Rhinaldo cries;
The terms perform'd, I claim the prize.