| |
| RAISED on the rocky barriers of the sea, | |
| Stands thy dark convent, fair St. Valerie! | |
| Lone like an eagle’s nest, the pine-trees tall | |
| Throw their long shadows on the heavy wall, | |
| Where never sound is heard, save the wild sweep | 5 |
| Of mountain waters rushing to the deep, | |
| The tempest’s midnight song, the battle-cry | |
| Of warring winds, like armies met on high, | |
| And in a silent hour the convent chime. | |
| And sometimes, at the quiet evening time | 10 |
| A vesper song—those tones, so pure so sweet, | |
| When airs of earth and words of heaven do meet! | |
| Sad is the legend of that young Saint’s doom! | |
| When the Spring Rose was in its May of bloom | |
| The storm was darkening; at that sweet hour | 15 |
| When hands beloved had reared her nuptial bower, | |
| The pestilence came o’er the land, and he | |
| With whom her heart was, died that very morn— | |
| Her bridal morn! Alas, that there should be | |
| Such evil ever for affection born! | 20 |
| She shrank away from earth, for solitude | |
| Is the sole refuge for the heart’s worst pain; | |
| Life had no ties,—she turned her unto heaven, | |
| And on the steep rock reared her holy fane. | |
| It has an air of sadness, as just meet | 25 |
| For the so broken heart’s last lone retreat! | |
| A portrait here has still preserved each charm: | |
| I saw it one bright evening, when the warm | |
| Last glow of sunset shed its crimson ray | |
| Over the lovely image. She was fair | 30 |
| As those most radiant spirits of the air | |
| Whose life is amid flowers! like the day, | |
| The golden summer day, her glossy hair | |
| Fell o’er a brow of Indian ivory; | |
| Her cheek was pale, and in her large dark eye | 35 |
| There was a thought of sorrow, and her brow | |
| Upon one small snow hand leaned pensively, | |
| As if to hide her tears;—the other pressed | |
| A silver crucifix upon her breast. | |
| I ne’er saw sadness touching as in thee | 40 |
| And thy lorn look, oh fair St. Valerie! | |
| |
