IN smiling lawn, by elms o'erspread,
An humble dwelling raised its head,
In vines and clust ring roses wreathed,
Of peace its simple beauty breathed :
'Midst groves of flow'ring shrubs it stood,
The distance bounded by a wood
Of beech and pine, of ash and oak,
O'er which the storms of ages broke.
They bowed beneath the tempest's rage,
Which still had spared their green old age.
A lovely lake lay on the right,
With winding shore and bosom bright;
While lofty hills, with rugged brow,
Sheltered the smiling scene below.
Nursed in this fair romantic spot,
Young Fanny blest her happy lot!
She graced a dear loved father's side,
Alike his darling and his pride;
Her native feelings, tender heart,
Had never known one touch of art;
Her form, of nature's loveliest mould :
Her clust'ring ringlets tinged with gold,
Played round a brow serenely fair,
Unclouded by a single care;
Her joyous smile, so sweetly gay,
Was soft as parting sunbeams' ray.
Her eyes in modest lustre shone,
And brightened all they looked upon.
Sole comfort of her father's life,
For he had lost a cherished wife;
In giving Fanny birth, she died,
He never had her place supplied;
Since, all unlike his fellow men,
He did not wish to wed again.
That wife was shrined within his heart,
When doomed by ruthless death to part;
He kept alive with jealous care,
Her image love had planted there.
Though withering in the silent tomb,
Again she lived in Fanny's bloom;
And when that little darling smiled,
He saw his Marian in her child.
VOL. IV. NO. XVIII.
This treasure left-he still was blest :
'Twas resignation soothed his breast.
Once merchant in a prosperous trade,
Both character and wealth he made.
Then to the country he repaired,
Where he his little daughter reared.
As years flew by, his Fanny grew,
In virtue and in beauty too.
Amidst her shrubs, her birds, and flowers,
She passed gay childhood's happy hours.
Her father every winter sought
The city, to have Fanny taught
Accomplishments, of every kind,
And studies to improve her mind.
But Fanny blessed the welcome day,
Which called them from the town away,
And brought them to their mountain home,
Where she, from morn 'till night might roam.
She hailed the sweet return of spring,
With hope and life upon its wing,
Whose breath awoke her own fair flowers,
That slept away the wintry hours,
And called them from their frozen tomb,
To blush once more in new-born bloom.
She long'd again, each bud to view,
Glittering in the morning dew;
Before the brilliant orb of day
Had chased the pearly drops away;
Within the city's gloomy round
Those simple pleasures were not found.
Far happier in her lone retreat,
Those guileless hours were but too fleet!
Within a mile of Fanny's home,
A castle stood, whose lofty dome
Proclaimed its lord of high degree,
Descended from nobility.
Of woods and splendid parks possess'd,
Cold haughty feelings ruled his breast:
He thought e'en worth could boast no claim,
Without high birth and ancient name.
His lady several children bore,
Whom death had now reduced to four;
Three of them had their father's mind,
But Henry was both good and kind;
He was the youngest of the whole;
His true nobility of soul
In every thought and deed appeared,
Which made him loved-the rest were feared!
In figure he surpassed them all,
Of gallant bearing, stature tall;
Possessing every manly grace,
While feeling marked his handsome face.
In his young school days' long career,
He hailed vacation every year;
Which to his home, each boy recalls,
And brought him to his father's halls.
What happy scenes rose to his view,
The lake, the woods-and Fanny too!
Full many a year he shared her plays,
For they had loved from childhood's days.
How often on a summer's eve
Would he, his father's castle leave,
And soon the boat upon the lake,
He'd row across for Fanny's sake;
His youthful bosom beating high,
When her neat cottage met his eye-
To him a heaven of peace and rest,
With her the mistress of his breast!
Who bright as poet ever feigned,
Queen of his youthful fancy reigned.
Their evenings past in converse sweet,
Unheeded in love's calm retreat;
Until the gentle moon's soft ray,
Reminded him to haste away;
Full oft he lingered at the door,
Or strolled with Fanny to the shore
Of that fair lake he must pass o'er.
While Funny on her father's arm,
Lent to the scene a dearer charm.
Thus time flew by, on love's bright wing
Nor left one doubt to cloud their spring.
Though hid, like violet in the shade,
Yet many a suitor sought the maid;
A rich man wooed her for his bride,
But she his love had oft denied ;
A house in town great wealth and land,
Awaited but fair Fanny's hand.
Ah! what availed his proffered goid,
To her, whose heart could not be sold.
Henry's was the valued treasure;
For her, ambition had no pleasure ;
Her lover's worth alone she prized,
And he sweet Fanny idolized.
For years he loved the gentle maid,
While she each tender thought repaid:
Her father prized the generous youth,
Whose noble brow was stamped with truth.
But fortune seldom love befriends,
And oft some cruel barrier sends,
To chase the visions of our youth
When hope assumes the guise of truth!
Now Henry was a younger son,
And had not much to call his own;
He often had his father prayed,
To let him wed the lovely maid.
But he replied in angry tone,
"That son he ever would disown,
Who thoughtless of his rank and pride,
Should from the city seek a bride.'
He bade him chuse a soldier's life,
For she should never be his wife!
'Twas useless such false hopes to nurse,
Unless he'd feel a father's curse!
'Twas destined, he should go next day,
And vain to plead-he must away.
Henry that night his true love sought,
Victim of agonizing thought;
That dreadful tale he must unfold,
Yet knew not how it could be told!
Fanny with woman's quickness guessed
Some grief was lab'ring in his breast:
Her hand he grasped-then turn'd aside
His bosom's agony to hide.
Next moment pressed her to his heart
And murmured,- —we are doomed to part,—
But no, 'tis vain-the Powers above
Can only part me from my love!-
In faltering accents Fanny cried
"I see it all,—your father's pride
Has destin'd two fond hearts to sever,
And Henry—we must part for ever!"
O say not so,-my cherish'd love,
Though cruel parents disapprove,
They cannot part us!—hearts are free,
Who shall divide my love and me?"
Fanny, as drooping lily pale,
Which shrinks beneath the with'ring gale,
Vainly essay'd to speak her woes,
Till woman's pride at length arose.
"Henry,-in this sad parting hour,
'Twere vain I should deny your power,
That love which from our childhood grew,
This heart can only feel for you.
Yet though thy Fanny's humbly born,
She'll not deserve thy father's scorn:
Nor shall he ever mourn his son,
By her who loved him most undone !
Yes Henry, we must part e'en now,
In spite of every tender vow,
I am too weak alas! as yet
To bid you all our love forget!"
"No, Fanny no, life I'll resign,
E'er I renounce thy vows and mine!
"Tis vain as cruel thus to speak,
Nor could I think thy love so weak,
As thus to shrink before the blast,
When clouds our destiny o'ercast.
Then promise dearest e'er we part,
That I shall live in that lov'd heart!
I ask but this-thy love to test;
Then, hope triumphant in my breast,
I'll brave the war, the stern decree,
While Fanny lives, and lives for me!"
Condemn her not, if in that hour,
Her reason slept—and love had power
To win the promise which he claimed ;
Though even then her reason blamed.
He pressed her in a last embrace,
And wildly kissed her pale cold face;
Then gazed upon her matchless charms,
As she sank lifeless in his arms.
"Oh cruel fate! how can I part,
From her, the life spring of my heart?
Yet I must go,-for Fanny's sake,
Ere she to consciousness awake."
Her father took his hapless child,
While Henry's air became more wild ;
Again he turned one more caress,
And knelt that Fanny's sire might bless.
Then rushing through the cottage door,
Which he must never enter more,
He paused a moment for relief,
In all the hopelessness of grief.
Those trees, those shrubs, each well known flower,
That slumber'd in the moonlight hour,
All breath'd of Fanny's taste and care:
And filled his bosom with despair?
Next day his father's halls he left,
Of all but youthful hope bereft.
Years in their course could not impart
Forgetfulness to Fanny's heart.
Her father tried each art in vain,
And she was grieved to cause him pain;
Then often sought to chase his fears,
By smiling on him, through her tears,
Yet faintly, like a sunbeam's ray,
Struggling through mists on wintry day,
A moment its sweet smiles appear,
Then leaves the prospect but more drear !-
Few would revert to Henry's name,
But yet 'twas borne on wings of fame.
She wept to think that one so dear
Might fall in battle's wild career.
His letters, though with rapture prest,
And treasured in her faithful breast,
Served but its sorrow to renew,
For one so tender and so true.
Now Henry had been gone two years,
Numbered by faithful Fanny's tears,
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