GERTRUDE OF WYOMING. PART II. 1. A VALLEY from the river shore withdrawn To sport by summer moons, had shaped it for themselves II. Yet wanted not the eye far scope to muse, And past those settlers' haunts the eye might roam III. But silent not that adverse eastern path, IV. It seemed as if those scenes sweet influence had That seemed to love whate'er they looked upon; Yet so becomingly th' expression past, That each succeeding look was lovelier than the last. V. Nor guess I, was that Pennsylvanian home, And fields that were a luxury to roam, Lost on the soul that looked from such a face! And joy to breathe the groves, romantic and alone. VI. The sunrise drew her thoughts to Europe forth, "Land of my father's love, my mother's birth! The home of kindred I have never seen! We know not other oceans are between: Yet say, far friendly hearts! from whence we came, Of us does oft remembrance intervene ? My mother sure my sire a thought may claim;But Gertrude is to you an unregarded name. VII. "And yet, loved England! when thy name I trace In many a pilgrim's tale and poet's song, How can I choose but wish for one embrace Of them, the dear unknown, to whom belong My mother's looks, perhaps her likeness strong? Oh, parent! with what reverential awe, From features of thine own related throng, An image of thy face my soul could draw! And see thee once again whom I too shortly saw!" VIII. Yet deem not Gertrude sighed for foreign joy; IX. Apart there was a deep untrodden grot, Where oft the reading hours sweet Gertrude wore; But here, methinks, might India's sons explore Their voice to the Great Spirit: - rocks sublime To human art a sportive semblance bore, And yellow lichens colored all the clime, Like moonlight battlements, and tow'rs decayed by time. X. But high in amphitheatre above, Gay-tinted woods their massy foliage threw : Rolling its verdant gulfs of every hue; -- XI. It was in this lone valley she would charm The lingering noon, where flowers a couch had strewn; With Shakspeare's self she speaks and smiles alone, And no intruding visitation fears, To shame the unconscious laugh, or stop her sweetest tears. XII. And nought within the grove was heard or seen Or winglet of the fairy humming-bird, But late th' equator suns his cheek had tanned, XIII. A steed, whose rein hung loosely o'er his arm, Uplift on one, whose lineaments and frame Wore youth and manhood's intermingled grace: And well the Spanish plume his lofty looks became. Has pointed where the father's mansion stood. Returning from the copse he soon was there; Between the man of age and pilgrim young, That gay congeniality of mood, And early liking from acquaintance sprung; Full fluently conversed their guest in England's tongue XV. And well could he his pilgrimage of taste Unfold,- and much they loved his fervid strain, Of climes, and manners, o'er the eastern main. Nor less each rural image he designed Than all the city's pomp and home of human kind. |