To waft them to some pleasant cave Like a happy thing doth lie;
In the unknown gardens of the wave, Breathing that fresh and fragrant air,
That, hid from every human eye,

And seeming in that slumber fair
Are happy in the smiling sky,

The Brother of the Sky.
And in their beauty win the love

Hues brighter than the ruby-stone
Of every orb that shines above.

With radiance gem his wavy zone,
Fitz-Owen from his dream awakes,

A million hues, I ween :
And gently in his arms he takes

Long dazzling lines of snowy white,
His gentle Maid, as a shepherd kind Fantastic wreath'd with purple light,
Brings from the killing mountain-wind Or bathed in richest green.
A snow-white lamb, and lets it rest The flying fish, on wings of gold,
In sleep and beauty on his breast.

Skims through the sunny ray,
And now the gentle fearless Maid

Then, like the rainbow's dying gleam,
Within the boat in peace is laid :

In the clear wave melts away.
Her limbs recline as if in sleep,

And all the beauteous joy seems made
Though almost resting on the deep; For that dauntless Youth and sainted Maid,
On his dear bosom leans her head,

Whom God and Angels love :
And through her long hair, wildly spread Comfort is in the helm, the sail,
D'er all ber face, her melting eyes The light, the clouds, the sea, the gale,
Are lifted upwards to the skies,

Around, below, above.
In silent prayer that Heaven would save
The arms that fold lier from the grave.

And thus they sail, and sail along,

Without one thought of fear;
The boat hath left the lonesome rock, As calm as if the boatman's song
And tries the wave again,

Awoke an echoing chear,
And on she glides without a fear,

O'er the hills that stretch in sylvan pride
So beauteous is the main.

On the Bala Lake's romantic side.
Her little sail beneath the sun

And lo! beneath the mellowing light,
Gleams radiant as the snow,

That trembles between day and night
And o'er the gently-heaving swell

Before the Sun's decline,
Bounds like a mountain-roe.

As to the touch of fairy-hand
In that frail bark the lovers sit,

Upstarting dim the nameless land
With steadfast face and silent breath, Extends its mountain-line.
Following the guiding hope of life,

It is no cloud that steadfast lics
Yet reconciled to death.

Between the Ocean and the Skies;
His arm is round her tender side,

No image of a cloud, that Alings
That moves beneath the press,

Across the deep its shadowy wings;
With a mingled beat of solemn awe Such as oft cheats with visions fair
And virgin tenderness.

The heart of home-sick nariner.
They speak not:- but the inward flow It is the living Earth! They see
Or faith and dread, and joy and woe, From the shore a smile of amity
Each from the other hears :

That gently draws them on,
Long, long they gaze with meeting eyes, Such a smile as o'er all Nature glows
Then lift them slowly to the skies At a summer-evening's fragrant close,
Steep'd in imploring tears.

When the winds and rain are gone.
And ever, as the rock recedes,

The self-moved boat appears to seek
They feel their spirits rise;

With gladsome glide a home-like creek,
And half forget that the smiling sea In the centre of a bay,
Caused all their miseries.

Which the calm and quiet hills surround,
Yet safe to them is the trackless brine And touch'd by waves without a sound,
As some well-known and rural road Almost as calm as they.
Paced in their childhood ;- for they love
Each other, and believe in God.

And, what if here fierce savage men

Glare on them from some darksome den?
And well might the refulgent day What would become of this most helpless
These Ocean-Pilgrims cheer,

Maid?
And make them feel as if the glades Fitz-Owen thinks:- but in her eye,
of home itself were near.

So calmly bright, he can descry
For a living sentiment of joy,

That she is not afraid
Sach as doth sleep on hill and vale

Of savage men or monsters wild,
When the friendly sun comes from his clouds But is sublimely reconciled
The vernal bloom to hail,

To meet and bear her destiny.
Plays on the Ocean's sparkling brcast, A gentle rippling on the sand-

One stroke of the dexterous oar-
Thät, half in motion, half at rest,

The sail is furl'd: the boat is moor’d: How did I love to sigh and weep
And the Lovers walk the shore.

For those that sail'd upon the deep,
To them it is an awful thought,

When, yet a wondering child, From the wild world of waters brought I eat alone at dead of night, By God's protecting hand,

Hanging all breathless with delight
When every Christian soul was lost,

O'er their adventures wild!
On that unknown, but beauteous coast, Trembling I heard of dizzy shrouds,
As in a dream to stand.

Where up among the raving clouds
While their spirits with devotion burn, The sailor-boy must go;
Their faces to the sea they turn,

Thunder and lightning o'er his head!
That lately seem’d their grave;

And, should he fall—0 thought of dread!
And bless, in murmurs soft and low, Waves mountain-high below.
The beautiful, the halcyon glow,

How leapt my heart with wildering fears,
That bathes the evening-wave.

Gazing on savage islanders Before the setting sun they kneel,

Ranged fierce in long canoe, And through the silent air,

Their poison'd spears, their war-attire, To Him that dwells on that throne of light and plumes twined bright, like wreaths of They pour their souls in prayer.

fire, Their thoughts are floating, like the clouds Round brows of dusky hue! That seek the beauteous West,

What tears would fill my wakeful eyes
Their gentleness, their peace the same, When some delicious paradise,
The same their home of rest.

(As if a cloud had rollid
Now Night hath come with the cooling On a sudden from the bursting sun)

breeze,

Freshening the Ocean where it shone,
And these Lovers still are on their knees. Flung wide its groves of gold!

No more the pining Mariner
In wild delirium raves,
For like an angel, kind and fair,
That smiles, and smiling saves,
The glory charms away distress,

Serene in silent loveliness
CAN TO III.

Amid the dash of waves.

On many are the beauteous isles

And wouldst thou think it hard to dwell Unknown to human eye,

Alone within some sylvan cell,
That, sleeping 'mid the Ocean-smiles, Some fragrant arch of flowers,
In happy silence lie.

Raised like a queen with gracious smile
The Ship may pass them in the night, In the midst of this her subject isle,
Nor the sailors know what a lovely sight This labyrinth of bowers?
Is resting on the Main;

Could the fair earth, and fairer skies,
Some wandering Ship who hath lost her Clouds, breezes, fountains, groves,

way,

To banish from thy heart suffice And never, or by night or day,

All thought of deeper Joves? Shall pass these isles again.

Or wouldst thou pine thy life away,
There groves that bloom in endless spring To kiss once more the blessed ray
Are rustling to the radiant wing

That shines in human eyes?
Of birds, in various plumage bright, What though the clustering roses came
As rainbow-hues, or dawning light. Like restless gleams of magic flame,
Soft-falling showers of blossoms fair, As if they loved thy feet,
Float ever on the fragrant air,

To win thee like a summer sprite,
Like showers of vernal snow,

With purest touches of delight, And from the fruit-tree, spreading tall, To the Fairy-Queen’s retreat! The richly ripen'd clusters fall

Oh! they would bloom and wither too, Oft as sea-breezes blow.

And melt their pearls of radiant dew, The sun and clouds alone possess

Without one look from thee: The joy of all that loveliness ;

What pleasure could that beauty give,
And sweetly to each other smile

Which, of all mortal things that live,
The live-long day-sun, cloud, and isle. None but thyself may see?
Now silent lies each shelter'd bay !

And where are the birds that cheer'd thinc No other visitors have they

eyes, To their shores of silvery sand,

With wings and crests of rainbow dyes, Than the waves that, murmuring in their That wont for aye to glide

glee,

Like sunbeams through the shady bowers All hurrying in a joyful band

Charming away the happy hours Come dancing from the sca.

With songs of love or pride?

Soon, soon thou hatest this Paradise; And smiling dreams were given
It seems the soul hath fled

To cheer her heart; then down he laid
That made it fairer than the skies,

His limbe beside the sleeping Maid,
And a joyful beauty shed

In the face of the starry Heaven.
O'er the tremor of the circling wave,
That now with restless moans and sighs
Sounds like the dirge-song of the dead, Sleep fell upon their wearied souls
Dim breaking round a grave.

With a power as deep as death;
Scarce trembled Mary's floating hair

In her Lover's tranquil breath.
But she thou lovest is at thy side, In that still trance did dear thoughts come
The Island-Queen becomes thy bride, From the brook, and the glade, and the sky,
And God and Nature sanctify the vow;

of home, Air, Earth, and Ocean smile once more, And the gentle sound of her mother's voice And along the forest-fringed shore,

Bade Mary's slumbering soul rejoice. What mirth and music now!

For she in dreams to Wales hath flown, What warm and heavenly tints illume And sits in a cottage of her own, The land that lately seem'd a tomb Beneath its sheltering tree : Where thou wert left to die!

Fitz-Owen's eye is fix'd on hers, So bathed in joy this earth appears

While with a timid smile she stira To him, who, blind for lingering years,

Beside her mother's knee. At last beholds the sky.

But the rising sun hath pour'd his beams
Thy heart was like an untouch'd lyre, Into her heart, and broke her dreams;
Silent as death-Let the trembling wire Slowly she lifts her eyes,
The hand that knows its spirit feel; And, wondering at the change, looks round,
And list! What melting murmurs steal Upon that wild enchanted ground,
Like incense to the realms above,

And these delightful skies.
Such sounds as parted souls might love. Over her Lover's breast she breathes
And now if a home-bound vessel lay A blessing and a prayer,
At anchor in yon beauteous bay,

And gently they stir his sleeping soul, 'Till the land-breeze her canvas wings should Like the voice of the morning-air.

swell,

Soon as the first surprise is past, From the sweet Isle thou scarce wouldst They rise from their leafy bed,

part,

As cheerful as the new-woke birds
But, when thou didst, thy lingering heart That sing above their head.
Would sadly say: Farewell!

And trusting in the merciful Power
That saved them in that dismal hour

When the ship sank in the sea,
In such a Fairy-Isle now pray'd

Cheering their souls with many a smile Fitz-Owen and his darling Maid.

They walk through the woods of this nameThe setting sun, with a pensive glow,

less Isle Had bathed their foreheads bending low, In undisturb'd tranquillity. Nor ceased the voice, or the breath of their

prayer, Till the moonlight lay on the mellow'd air. Well might they deem that wizard's wand Then from the leaves they calmly rose, Had set them down in Fairy-land, As after a night of calm repose,

Or that their souls some beauteous dream And Mary lean'd her face

obey'd : With a sob of joy on her Lover's breast, They know not where to look or listen, Who with kind tones the Maiden press'd For pools and streams of crystal glisten In a holy pure embrace.

Above, around,-embracing like the air And genily he kise'd her tearful eyes, The soft-reflected trees; while everywhere And bade her heart lie still,

From shady nook, clear hill, and sunny glade, For there was a power in the gracious skies, The ever-varying soul of music play'd; To shield their saints from ill.

As if, at some capricious thing's command, Then, guided by the moon-light pale, Indulging every momentary mood, They walk'd into a sylvan vale,

With voice and instrument, a fairy-band Soft, silent, warm, and deep ;

Beneath some echoing precipice now stood, And there beneath her languid head, Now on steep mountain's rocky battlement, The silken wither'd leaves he spread, Or from the clouds their blended chorus sent, That she might sweetly sleep.

With jocund din to mock the solitude. Then down he sat by her tender side, They gaze with never-eated eyes And, as she lay, with soft touch dried On lengthening lines of flowery dyes, The stealing tears she could not hide ; That through the woods, and up the mounTill sleep, like a faint shadow, fell

tains run: O‘er the husht face he loved so well, Not richer radiance robes the Even,

nor

more.

When she ascends her throne in Heaven, Chequering the clouds with their unbending Beside the setting sun.

stems, Scattering the blossomy gems away,

And o'er the clouds amid the dark-blue skies, Like the white shower of the ocean-spray, Lifting their rich unfading diadems. Across their path for ever glide or shoot How calm and placidly they rest Birds of such beauty, as might lead Upon the Heavens indulgent breast, The soul to think that magic power decreed As if their branches never breeze bad known! Spirits to dwell therein ; are they Light bathes them aye in glancing showers,

mute,

And Silence mid their lofty bowers But each doth chant his own beloved strain, Sits on her moveless throne. For ever trembling on a natural tune, Entranced there the Lovers gaze, The heart's emotions seeming so to suit, Till every human fear decays, That the rapt Lovers are desiring soon, And bliss steals slowly through their quiet That silence never may return again.

souls;
Though ever lost to human kind

And all they love, they are resign'd:
A cheerful welcome these bright creatures While with a scarce-heard murmur rolls,

sing;

Like the waves that break along the shore, And as the Lovers roam from glade to glade, The sound of the world they must see no That shine with sunlight, and with music

ring,

List! Mary is the first to speak, Seems but for them the enchanted island Her tender voice still tenderer in her bliss;

made.

And breathing o'er her silent husband's cheek, So strong the influence of the fairy-scene, As from an infant's lip, a timid kiss, That soon they feel as if for many a year Whose touch at once all lingering sorrow In love and rapture they had linger'd here,

calms, While with the beauteous things that once Says: God to us in love hath given

have been

A home on earth, most like to Heaven, Long, long ago, or only in the mind Our own sweet Isle of Palms. By Fancy imaged, lies their native Wales, Its dim-seen hills, and all its streamy vales : Sounds in their souls its rushing mountain- And where shall these happy lovers dwell?

wind,

Shall they seek in the cliffs for some mossy Like music heard in youth, remember'd well,

cell? But when or where it rose they cannot tell. Some wilder haunt than ever hermit knew! Delightful woods, and many a cloudless sky, Where they may shun the mid-day heat, Are in their memory strangely floating by, And slumber in a safe retreat, But the faint pageant slowly melts away, When evening sheds her dew; And to the living earth they yield

Or shall they build a leafy nest, Their willing hearts, as if reveal'd

Where they like birds may sport and rest, In all its glory on this mystic day. By clustering bloom preserved from sun and Like fire, strange flowers around them flame,

rain, Sweet, harmless fire, breathed from some Upon some little radiant mound

magic urn, Within reach of the freshening sound The silky gossamer that may not burn, That murmurs from the Main? Too wildly beautiful to bear a name. No farther need their footsteps roam: And when the. Ocean sends a breeze, Even where they stand, a sylvan home To wake the music sleeping in the trees, Steals like a thought upon their startled Trees scarce they seem to be; for many a

sight; flower,

For Nature's breath with playful power Radiant as dew, or ruby polish'd bright, Hath framed an underaying bowor, Glances on every spray, that bending light With colours heavenly bright. Around the stem, in variegated bows, Beyond a green and level lawn, Appear like some awaken’d fountain-shower, Its porch and roof of roses dawn That with the colour of the evening glows. Through arching trees that lend a mellor.

ing shade.

How gleams the bower with countless dres! And towering o'er these beauteous woods, Unwearied spring fresh bloom supplies, Gigantic rocks were ever dimly seen, Still brightning where they fade. Breaking with solemn gray the tremulous Two noble Palms, the forest's pride,

green,

Guarding the bower on either side,
And frowning far in castellated pride; Their straight majestic stems to leaves
While, hastening to the Ocean, hoary floods

nprear:
Sent up a thin and radiant mist between, There Beauty sleeps in Grandeur's arms,
Softening the beauty that it could not hide. And sheltered there from all alarms,
Lo! higher still the stately Palm-trees rise, Hath nought on earth to fear.

The Dwellers in that lovely bower, That to this Eden bore If mortal shape may breathe such blessed air, Your almost hopeless souls :-how bold Might gaze on it from morn till evening-hour, It seems to lie, all danger o’er, Nor wish for other sight more touching fair. A speck amid the fluid gold Why look abroad? All things are here That burns along the shore! Delightful to the eye and ear, And fragrance pure as light floats all around. But if they look—those mystic gleams, Five cloudless days have, from the placid The glory we adore in dreams,

deep, May here in truth be found.

In glory risen o'er this refulgent Isle, Fronting the bower, eternal woods. And still the Sun retired to rest too soon; Darkening the mountain-solitudes, And each night with more gracious smile, With awe the soul oppress :

Guarding the lovers when they sleep, There dwells, with shadowy glories crown'd, Hath watch'd the holy Moon. Rejoicing in the gloom profound,

Through many a dim and dazzling glade, The Spirit of the Wilderness.

They in their restless joy have stray'd, Lo! stretching inward on the right, In many a grot reposed, and twilight-cave; A winding vale eludes the sight,

Have wander'd round each ocean-bay, But where it dics the happy soul must dream: And gazed where inland-waters lay Oh! never sure beneath the sun,

Serene as night, and bright as day, Along such lovely banks did run

Untouch'd by wind or wave. So musical a stream.

Happy their doom, though strange and wild, But who shall dare in thought to paint And soon their souls are reconciled Yon fairy-waterfall?

For ever here to live, and here to die. Still moisten’d by the misty showers, Why should they grieve? a constant mirth From fiery-red, to yellow soft and faint, With music fills the air and earth, Fantastic bands of fearless flowers

And beautifies the sky. Sport o'er the rocky wall;

High on the rocks the wild-flowers shine And ever, through the shrouding spray, In beauty bathed, and joy divine : Whose diamonds glance as bright as they, In their dark nooks to them are given Float birds of graceful form, and gorgeous The sunshine and the dews of Heaven.

plumes,

The fish that dart like silver-gleams Or dazzling white as snow;

Are happy in their rock-bound streams, While, as the passing sun illumes

Happy as they that roam the Ocean's breast; The river's bed, in silent pride

Though far away on sounding wings
Spanning the cataract roaring wide, Yon bird could fly, content he sings
Unnumber'd rainbows glow.

Around his secret nest.
And shall the Monarchs of this Isle

Lament, when one unclouded smile
But turn around, if thou hast power Hangs like perpetual spring on every wood ?
To leave a scene so fair,

And often in their listening souls And looking left-wards from the bower, By a delightful awe subdued, What glory meets thee there!

God's voice, like mellow thunder, rolls For lo! the heaven-encircled Sea

All through the silent solitude. Oatspreads his dazzling pageantry, As if the whole creation were his own, And the Isle, on which thy feet now stand, Five days have fled !- The Sun again, In beauty rose at his command,

Like an angel, o'er the brightening Main And for his joy alone.

Uplifts his radiant head; Beyond his billows rolling bright,

And full upon yon dewy bower, The Spirit dares not wing her flight; The warm tints of the dawning hour For where, upon the boundless deep, Mid warmer still are shed. Should she, if wearied, sink to sleep? The Sun pours not his light in vain Back to the beauteous Isle of Palms On them who therein dwell:-a strain Glad she returns; there constant calms of pious music, through the morning-calm The bays, that sleep like inland-lakes, invest: Wakening unwonted echoes, wildly rings, Delightful all;--but to your eyes,

And kneeling there to Mercy's fane, o blessed Pair! one circlet lies

While flowers supply their incense-balm, More fair than all the rest.

At the foot of yon majestic Palm A evening, throngh that silent bay The Maid her matins sings.

ith beating hearts ye steer'd your way, It is the Sabbath-morn :-since last

et trusting in the guiding love of Heaven; From Heaven it shone, what awful things, And there, upon your bended knees,

have past! To the unseen Pilot of the Seas

In their beloved vessel as it rollid Yaar speechless prayers were given. In pride and beauty o'er the waves of gold, From your bower-porch the skiff behold Then were they sailing free from all alarms,