GERTRUDE OF WYOMING. PART II. I. A VALLEY from the river shore withdrawn Was Albert's home two quiet woods between, Whose lofty verdure overlook'd his lawn; To sport by summer moons, had shaped it for themselves. II. Yet wanted not the eye far scope to muse, Nor vistas open'd by the wand'ring stream; Both where at evening Allegany views, Through ridges burning in her western beam, Lake after lake interminably gleam: And past those settlers' haunts the eye might roam, Where earth's unliving silence all would seem; Save where on rocks the beaver built his dome, Or buffalo remote low'd far from human home. III. But silent not that adverse eastern path Which saw Aurora's hills th' horizon crown; Like tumults heard from some far distant town; But soft'ning in approach he left his gloom, And murmur'd pleasantly, and laid him down→ To kiss those easy curving banks of bloom, That lent the windward air an exquisite perfume.— IV. It seem'd as if those scenes sweet influence had On Gertrude's soul, and kindness like their own eyes affectionate and glad, That seem'd to love whate'er they look'd upon; Or if a shade more pleasing them o'ercast, (As if for heav'nly musing meant alone;) Yet so becomingly th' expression past, That each succeeding look was lovelier than the last. |