VII.
'Twas midnight； calmly slept the Earth, And the mysterious eyes above, Gazed down with chastened looks of love, Not, as when first they hymned her birth, With ardent1 songs of holy mirth, But mournfully serene2 and clear； As on some erring3 one we gaze, Whose feet have strayed from wisdom's ways, But who, in error, still is dear. Far o'er yon swiftly flowing stream Fair fell the young moon's silver beam, And gazing on its restless sheen, Stood one whose garb4, and port, and mien5, Bespoke6 him of a foreign land, One born to win, and hold command； The master mind, the leading one, Where deeds of manly7 might were done.
Yet, by the hallowed glow, that came O'er lip and cheek, o'er eye and brow, He who beheld8, might guess that now His thoughts were not of wealth and fame： Whence could that veiling radiance shine, Save from Affection's holy shrine9？ And this was he, who from afar, Had come to bear away his bride； And love had been the guiding star, That lit him o'er the trackless tide； To-morrow, on its sunny wing, My bridal hour soon shall bring； And those bright orbs10 which o'er me shed Such gentle radiance from on high, Shall shine upon my nuptial11 bed, When next they walk along the sky. ！ what are all the pomps of earth, Of honour, glory, greatness, worth, Beside the bliss12 which Love confers Upon his humblest followers13！ He said, and from the river turned； An eye, that with fierce hatred14 burned, Met his, and this reply was made： Thou, haughty15 one, shalt be a shade Ere dawns the coming morrow's sun.
Then, ere the point he could evade16, He felt the sharp steel pierce his breast, While he, who the foul17 deed had done Stood calmly by, and saw him sink In death, beside the water's brink18, Saw, gush19 by gush, the crimson20 blood Pour out, and mingle21 with the flood； Then drew his dagger22 from its rest, And gazing on its fearful hue23, Said, Thou hast yet one task to do.
He who, death-wounded, welters there, Came hither, o'er the deep to bear Far off from her paternal24 nest, The white dove I have watched so long. The falcon's wing was bold and strong, Yet thou hast stayed him in his flight； Strike one more blow, and thou to-night May'st rest； then laid his bosom25 bare, And buried deep the dagger there, And by his victim's lifeless trunk, Without a sigh or groan26 he sunk.
