"The low sounds incoherent came,—

"Yet sure he join❜d CHRISTINA's name

"With 'sweet revenge,' and much she fear'd,

"For one to the lov'd maid endear'd.”

XXXV.

The father's love, the father's pride,

That painful moment mortified;

By anger, woe, and doubt assail'd,

The father's fears at length prevail'd.

"CHRISTINA, to the shore I fly,

"This boy's rash haste to rectify,

"This hateful rivalry to stay,

"This jealousy to chase away,

"For this I go ;-await me here!"—

"O banish this degrading fear!"

The maiden cried, "Injurious thought!

"From terror, not from reason, caught.

"What! dost thou class thy Hubert then
"With polish'd Europe's treacherous men?
"Who point the death-tube at the breast,
"Which yester-morn to their's was prest;
"Men who, unfit to live or die,
"Unbidden to His presence fly,

"Who sent, at the Redeemer's birth,

"Good will to men, and peace on earth!"

XXXVI.

"And dost thou Hubert's virtue deem,

"The brightness of an airy dream?

"And think'st thou Hubert's love so weak,

"That he CHRISTINA's heart would break?

"Ah! well I know that virtue strong,

"Practis'd to render good for wrong ! "Ah! well I know that faithful love,

"From me would every pang remove!

"At peril of his life would save

"His rival from the stormy wave;

"Share with him board and dwelling free;

"Give all he had to give,but me!"

Delighted, charm'd, the father gaz'd,

On the bright glow her ardor rais'd;
From friendship, not from love, it sprúng,

Yet on her generous speech he hung:

She sway'd his heart with double claim,

Defender of his Hubert's fame:

Her face, her heart, with feeling burn' (,

And blushing to the porch she turn'd;

She turn'd;—and there, in listening mood,

Link'd side by side the rivals stood!

Hubert advanc'd, and in his arms

One moment clasp'd those blooming charms:

"Thanks, sister, thanks!" faltering he said,

And led young Henry to the maid ;

"Oh hands should meet, where hearts entwine, "Take her, bright stranger, she is thine!"

Oh! it is sweet, in this disjointed age,
To 'scape awhile life's sad realities,
Where history weeps o'er the recording page

Of human crimes and human miseries!

From want, from war, th' enfranchis'd spirit flies

How gladly flies! how mournfully returns!

Still in that Southern isle embowered lies,

Hiding 'mid palmy groves, and glistening burns,

And England's stormy skies and wilder discord spurns.

Still fancy lingers there; to contemplate

The lovely scene, enamor'd of her theme!

Connubial love, most blissful draught of fate,
Mix'd with no rancorous tear, or jealous dream,

Pure, unpolluted, as the crystal stream,

Perfect, as joy in Eden's happy vale; And peace, content, and piety's mild beam, Gild with refulgent light the verdant dale,

A softer music breathe, and load the ambient gale. Home, wanderer, home again! The spell is past,

Which lur'd thee, Fancy, to that Southern isle;

The silent lyre from the high plantain cast,
Unvocal now, no longer would beguile