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Anon some wilder portraiture he draws;
Of Nature's savage glories he would speak,
The loneliness of earth that overawes,-
Where, resting by some tomb of old Cacique,
The lama-driver on Peruvia's peak
Nor living voice nor motion marks around;
But storks that to the boundless forest shriek,
Or wild-cane arch high flung o'er gulf profound,
That fluctuates when the storms of El Dorado



Pleased with his guest, the good man still would


Each earnest question, and his converse court; But Gertrude, as she eyed him, knew not why A strange and troubling wonder stopt her short. “ In England thou hast been,-and, by report, An orphan's name (quoth Albert) may’st have

known. Sad tale !when latest fell our frontier fort, One innocent--one soldier's child-alone Was spared, and brought to me, who loved him as

my own.


Young Herry Waldegrave! three delightful years
These very walls his infant sports did see,
But most I loved him when his parting tears
Alternately bedew'd my child and me:

His sorest parting, Gertrude, was from thee;
Nor half its grief his little heart could hold;
By kindred he was sent for o'er the sea,
They tore him from us when but twelve years old,
And scarcely for his loss have I been yet con-



His face the wanderer hid--but could not hide A tear, a smile, upon his cheek that dwell; “And speak! mysterious stranger! (Gertrude

cried) It is it is! I knew I knew him well ! 'Tis Waldegrave's self, of Waldegrave come to

tell ! "

A burst of joy the father's lips declare !
But Gertrude speechless on his bosom fell;
At once his open arms embraced the pair,
Was never group more blest in this wide world

of care.


“And will ye pardon then (replied the youth)
Your Waldegrave's feigned name, and false attire?
I durst not in the neighbourhood, in truth,
The very fortunes of your house inquire ;
Lest one that knew me might some tidings dire
Impart, and I my weakness all betray,
For had I lost my Gertrude and my sire,
I meant but o'er your tombs to weep a day,
Unknown I meant to weep, unknown to pass



But here ye live, ye bloom,-in each dear face,
The changing hand of time I may not blame;
For there, it hath but shed more reverend grace,
And here, of beauty perfected the frame:*
And well I know your hearts are still the same
They could not change-ye look the very way,
As when an orphan first to you

And have ye heard of my poor guide I pray?
Nay, wherefore weep ye, friends, on such a joyous




And art thou here? or is it but a dream? And wilt thou, Waldegrave, wilt thou, leave us

more ?" “No, never! thou that yet dost lovelier seem Than aught on earth--than ev’n thyself of

yore I will not part thee from thy father's shore; But we shall cherish him with mutual arms, And hand in hand again the path explore Which every ray of young remembrance warms, While thou shalt be my own, with all thy truth

and charms ! "


At morn, as if beneath a galaxy
Of over-arching groves in blossoms white,
Where all was odorous scent and harmony,

And gladness to the heart, nerve, ear, and sight :
There, if, O gentle Love! I read aright
The utterance that seald thy sacred bond,
'Twas listening to these accents of delight,
She hid upon his breast those eyes, beyond
Expression's power to paint, all languishingly



“ Flower of my life, so lovely and so lone ! Whom I would rather in this desert meet, Scorning, and scorn'd by fortune's power, than


Her pomp and splendours lavish'd at my feet! Turn not from me thy breath more exquisite Than odours cast on heaven's own shrine-to

please Give me thy love, than luxury more sweet, And more than all the wealth that loads the breeze, When Coromandel's ships return from Indian seas.'



Then would that home admit them-happier far
Than grandeur's most magnificent saloon,
While, here and there, a solitary star
Flush'd in the darkening firmament of June;
And silence brought the soul-felt hour, full soon,
Ineffable, which I may not portray;
For never did the hymenean moon
A paradise of hearts more sacred sway,
In all that slept beneath her soft voluptuous ray.




O LOVE! in such a wilderness as this,
Where transport and security entwine,
Here is the empire of thy perfect bliss,
And here thou art a god indeed divine.
Here shall no forms abridge, no hours confine,
The views, the walks, that boundless joy inspire !
Roll on, ye days of raptured influence, shine!
Nor, blind with ecstasy's celestial fire,
Shall love behold the spark of earth-born time



Three little moons, how short ! amidst the grove
And pastoral savannas they consume !
While she, beside her buskin’d youth to rove,
Delights, in fancifully wild costume,
Her lovely brow to shade with Indian plume;
And forth in hunter-seeming vest they fare ;
But not to chase the deer in forest gloom,
'Tis but the breath of heaven the blessed air-
And interchange of hearts unknown, unseen to


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