Abash'd, when he her glances caught, As if he guess'd whose form they sought. The vision, that before her shone Through all the maze of blood and storm, One of those passing, rainbow dreams, Half light, half shade, which Fancy's beams In trance or slumber round the soul ! But now the bark, with livelier bound, Scales the blue wave the crew's in motion The oars are out, and with light sound Break the bright mirror of the ocean, Scattering its brilliant fragments round. And now she sees - with horror sees Their course is tow'rd that mountain hold,- Lie, like beleagur'd scorpions, roll❜d In their last deadly, venomous fold! Amid the' illumin'd land and flood Hung out to mark where death would be! Had her bewilder'd mind the power Of thought in this terrific hour, She well might marvel where or how Man's foot could scale that mountain's brow; Since ne'er had Arab heard or known Of path but through the glen alone. - When, as their bounding bark drew near Instantly o'er the dashing tide Within a cavern's mouth they glide, Gloomy as that eternal Porch, Through which departed spirits go; Not ev❜n the flare of brand and torch - as if each Sat breathless, and too aw'd for speech Seem'd dark, --so sullenly around Mutter'd it o'er the long black wave, As 'twere some secret of the grave! But soft they pause the current turns Beneath them from its onward track; Some mighty, unseen barrier spurns The vexed tide, all foaming, back, And scarce the oar's redoubled force And the toss'd bark in moorings swings. Just then, a day-beam through the shade O'er the steep rocks is borne along. Blest power of sunshine! genial Day, That had the world no joy but this, R That they had ris'n from darkness then, But soon this balmy freshness fled -'mid crash of boughs, The leopard from his hungry sleep, Who, starting, thinks each crag a prey, The jackal's cry-the distant moan Of torrents in the glen beneath, As 'twere the ever-dark Profound That rolls beneath the Bridge of Death! All, all is fearful-ev'n to see, To gaze on those terrific things She now but blindly hears, would be Since never yet was shape so dread, But Fancy, thus in darkness thrown, |