| |
| IT was an eve of Autumn’s holiest mood; | |
| The corn-fields, bathed in Cynthia’s silver light, | |
| Stood ready for the reaper’s gathering hand, | |
| And all the winds slept soundly. Nature seemed, | |
| In silent contemplation, to adore | 5 |
| Its Maker. Now and then, the agèd leaf | |
| Fell from its fellows, rustling to the ground; | |
| And, as it fell, bade man think on his end. | |
| On vale and lake, on wood and mountain high, | |
| With pensive wing outspread, sat heavenly Thought, | 10 |
| Conversing with itself. Vesper looked forth, | |
| From out her western hermitage, and smiled; | |
| And up the east, unclouded, rode the Moon | |
| With all her stars, gazing on earth intense, | |
| As if she saw some wonder walking there. | 15 |
| |
| Such was the night, so lovely, still, serene, | |
| When, by a hermit thorn that on the hill | |
| Had seen a hundred flowery ages pass, | |
| A damsel kneeled to offer up her prayer, | |
| Her prayer nightly offered, nightly heard. | 20 |
| This ancient thorn had been the meeting-place | |
| Of love, before his country’s voice had called | |
| The ardent youth to fields of honour, far | |
| Beyond the wave: and hither now repaired, | |
| Nightly, the maid, by God’s all-seeing eye | 25 |
| Seen only, while she sought this boon alone— | |
| Her lover’s safety and his quick return. | |
| In holy humble attitude she kneeled, | |
| And to her bosom, fair as moonbeam, pressed | |
| One hand, the other lifted up to heaven. | 30 |
| Her eye, upturned, bright as the star of morn, | |
| As violet meek, excessive ardour streamed, | |
| Wafting away her earnest heart to God. | |
| Her voice, scarce uttered, soft as Zephyr sighs | |
| On morning lily’s cheek, though soft and low, | 35 |
| Yet heard in heaven, heard at the mercy-seat. | |
| A tear-drop wandered on her lovely face; | |
| It was a tear of faith and holy fear, | |
| Pure as the drops that hang at dawning-time, | |
| On yonder willows by the stream of life. | 40 |
| On her the Moon looked steadfastly; the Stars, | |
| That circle nightly round the eternal Throne, | |
| Glanced down, well-pleased; and Everlasting Love | |
| Gave gracious audience to her prayer sincere. | |
| |
| O had her lover seen her thus alone, | 45 |
| Thus holy, wrestling thus, and all for him! | |
| Nor did he not; for ofttimes Providence! | |
| With unexpected joy the fervent prayer | |
| Of faith surprised. Returned from long delay, | |
| With glory crowned of righteous actions won, | 50 |
| The sacred thorn, to memory dear, first sought | |
| The youth, and found it at the happy hour, | |
| Just when the damsel kneeled herself to pray. | |
| Wrapt in devotion, pleading with her God, | |
| She saw him not, heard not his foot approach. | 55 |
| All holy images seemed too impure | |
| To emblem her he saw. A seraph kneeled, | |
| Beseeching for his ward, before the Throne, | |
| Seemed fittest, pleased him best. Sweet was the thought! | |
| But sweeter still the kind remembrance came, | 60 |
| That she was flesh and blood, formed for himself, | |
| The plighted partner of his future life. | |
| And as they met, embraced, and sat, embowered | |
| In woody chambers of the starry night, | |
| Spirits of love about them ministered, | 65 |
| And God, approving, blessed the holy joy! | |
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