k\ ■9,:> " \iM,M WM&tosMs* :?%JMSflfifiAMxAA-V fyfoiM W^$*M lm*» 1 LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. \h**Mt\ t A ~PS |$J53 a ■■' " * #| Im P f#%« ^o £ * ^%# ...&...±VH # ^ \&£>0 5 Ignited states op America.! MaW* ahaaaa aA/\*'aA aJ^aAaaAAM^A MM. %^^a*aa aMaaa H . l ;i* */^MA^MMMAAA.AAiMiMAAAiAAlA/ Aaa«a^' * > ; * £ * Aa£KS£vaQ£AX •PwrttfWtoA av*MrfV^flQwi • A' /AOA^A.aaA, /\AAAaAA' tfmrHVWWA «AA/^/.«fli5i!wOOfllAflli5W/ ^AAOAiAAAAAAAAAAAAAnAAA'lAA ' " ^^nAA^ ^^^t-'//T-^^^^ ^^ HESTER, THE BUIDE OF THE ISLANDS A POEM BY SYLVESTER B. BECKETT PORTLAND : m d ccc LX. ^ Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1859, by SYLVESTER B. BECKETT, Lathe Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Maine. PRINTED BY B. THURSTON. CONTENTS Introduction, ------- 7 The Chieftain, 15, 27 The Cabin, 17 The Wrecks, 19 The Daughter, 21 The Companions, 23 The Servitors, 25 Wild Fowl, 31 Soliloquy, --- 35 Mysterious Music, -37 Distant Mountains, -.-.-_' 39 Occult Nature, ------- 41 The Decision, ------- 43 The Look-out, -- 45 The Illusion, ------- 47 The Conference, 49 — 51 Otraska's Story, 53 — 55 A Ship, 59 IV CONTENTS. An Evening Scene, ------ 61 Festivity, ---------63 Fancies, 65 The Ship at Anchor, ------ 69 Carl's Firmness, ------- 71 The Calm, 73 — 75 The Tornado, 77 — 81 The Kescue, 83 — 85 Recognition, -------- 87 Spiritual Visitants, 91 Hester Revives, ------- 93 The Inlet, - - - - - - -95 — 101 Returned Home, ------- 103 Sails Loosed Again, 107 The Interior Lake, ------ 109 Sympathy, __._-__- m A Domestic Scene, ------ 113 The Banished Chief, ------ 117 Exile, - - 119 The Encounter, ------- 121 An Escape, 123 The Jew, - 125 Duty Indicated, ------- 129 The Range op Thought, ------ 131 The Captive, 133 The Dungeon, -------- 135 A Proposal, 137 Bitter Musings, 139 CONTENTS. V Deliverance, - 143 — 147 Moralizing, - 149 — 151 The Desert, 155 A Mountain Ravine, - - - - 157 — 159 A Vision, 161 The Red Sea, 165 Precursors op Storm, - 167 The Kamsin, 169 Premonition, 171 An Unexpected Visitor, 173 Inspiration, - 177 — 179 The Knight's Command, 181 Night Scene in Petra, ----- 185 The Jewess, -------- 187 A Declaration, - - 189 A Break in the Story, ------ 191 Oriental Customs, 193 The Approaching Army, ------ 199 Battle Array, - - 201 The Battle, 203 — 213 Life's Questionings, 217 The Wounded Knight, 219 Mutiny, - 223 Jews of Damascus, ------- 225 The Bridal, 227 Hester Disconcerted, 229 Damascus — its Fame, 231 Damascus — its Scenery, 233 — 235 VI CONTENTS. Damascus — its Women, - - - - - 237 The Jew's Last Hours, 241 — 251 Fate op the Jewess, 255 The Lone Grave, - 257 The Power op Love, - 259 Fall op the Knight, ------ 261 Hubart's Return, ------ 265 The Unwelcome Letter, - - - - - - . 267 An Urgent Appeal, - - - - - - 269 A Sudden Resolution, 271 The Old Church, - - 275 The Wedding, - - 277 Unexpected Detention, 281 A Storm Brewing, ------- 283 The Tempest, - - - - - - - 285 The Night Bugle, 287 Reminiscences, ------- 289 Belated Travelers, ----- 291 — 293 A Riddle Solved, - 297 Fortitude, -------- 301 Explanations, 303 — 307 Wrecks of Harvest, 311 Asceticism, - - - -- - - - 313 Longing for Home, * T 315 Otraska's Fate, - - 317 Notes, 321 — 336 INTRODUCTION Gone, gone forever — and well gone, perchance — ■ Are the blithe days when wandering troubadour In camp and castle sang the deft romance, 'Midst din of warlike strife or wassail roar ; Yet, maugre that those roistering days be o'er, And prosier times and plainer themes require Our notice — howsoever we deplore Their wealth of myth and pageant to inspire Our dreams, still are there those devoted to the lyre ! Thus have I from life's highways turned aside, A stranger, little trained in song to tune ; Who ne'er have dreamed by Mincio's classic tide, Or climbed Parnassus ; or held soul-commune With old-time bards ; or aped the sandal shoon Which wandering minstrel marked, and gleeman vest, And hence may scarce show patent for the boon , 8 INTRODUCTION. Of poesy — yet am I oft impressed With idyl, type, and rhyme, which will not let me rest ! I wander on lone islands where the waves Press shoreward, plumed with foam, in march sublime ; The unconquered billows! — tramping to the staves Of the loud-piping breezes, and the chime Of their own clashing cymbals, and the rhyme Of the Almighty, in embattled reach ; My soul to their wild music keepeth time, And pains for power to stamp the thoughts they teach With score indelible, on scope of mortal speech ! So in the unsunned forest's aisles of shade — Tired of life's fret and turmoil without end, I fly the ways of mankind, and invade Their dreamy haunts, and the great trees extend Their broad palms down to greet me as a friend Most loving, and where'er I turn I hear As 'twere the quest, Interpret us ! lend, lend Your written tongue ! — in soul speech, yet as clear As though an angel's trump had pealed it on the air ! The mountains draw up their huge chests, and talk INTR ODUCTION. \t Grand words whose gist there needs not helps to know ; The streams that leap their mural cliffs, or walk In calmer mood the deep ravines below, To meet me ; and the embattled crags that throw Their shadows o'er the wild glens, and make night Eternal in their depths — responsive, slow, But eloquent of speech, all prompt to write The ways of inner life, as they would fain indite ! And even in the maelstrom rush and roar Of life along the teeming thoroughfares Of the great mart of trade forevermore — Wrung out as 'twere from all its busy cares And toils, its misery, pomp, parade, and prayers, And desolations, echoes far and lone The voice ventriloquous, and often shares My hours of thought, the spirit- undertone Of 9 11 combined, to urge like service on me prone! By night ! by day ! Merged in the rush of men, Or in the solitude ; in toil, in ease — • Come these weird promptings; from the lonely glen, The grassy meadow weltering in the breeze, The wood-girt lake wherein the cloudlet sees 10 INTRODUCTION. Itself reflected ; from the sterile plain, . The flowers, the birds, the countless harmonies Of nature ! — All things, vast or seeming vain — All have their voices, all join in the ceaseless strain ! Write ! write ! The impulse haunts me as the wind The gateway of some deeply-sunken bend Of rugged alpine pass — what comes to mind Write ! and with converse we will interblend Your hours of thought, and when your song is penned, Cast it upon life's hurrying stream to ride The jostling current, whitherward it wend, And patiently, without disquiet bide The issue — only thus shalt thou be satisfied ! Hence have I sung ; and now I fling my thought As'prompted, on the wild, tumultuous stream ; What of it hath poetic worth, if aught, Has haply come of Nature — here a gleam From some external phase, anon a dream Of inspiration ! Give it praise or blame, Or pass it without comment, as may seem To you most meet ; with me 'tis all the same ; I hymn because I must, and not for greed of fame ! BOOK FIRST CHAPTER I Far in the North, whose vigorous clime And wintry storms have been the theme Of many a satire, from all time With those who only love to dream Of never-ceasing tropic heats, There is a broad and sheltered Bay, Begemmed with islands, green retreats That 'neath the deep-skied summer day, Gleam o'er the wave with lone array Of towering forests, rocky steeps, Green dunes and dells, and glimmery sweeps Of sand beach — grooved with cove and creek Where weary fisherman may seek For shelter from the storm ; hence sprung The name of Casco which it bears, 2 14 HESTEK. Importing in the Indian tongue A resting place from toils and cares ! Of all these isles, for many a league, When first the European came To their wild shores for greed or game, None was more beauteous than Chebeague ; And here, despite the red-man's frown, One of the hated Saxon race Had made himself a dwelling place — Afar from fortalice or town, Where he might succor find at need ; — His very recklessness to heed The wily savages indeed, Upon their natures won, and gave His word, or look, a power to save, Afar and near, whate'er the strait, Winning at least respect from hate. And otherwise, his well-knit form, Tall and erect, his eye of fire, Keen as the eagle's roused to ire, THE CHIEFTAIN. 15 His visage swart with sun and storm, His firm, proud step, his iron nerve That ne'er from danger cared to swerve, Were traits to win on their good will As well as on their fears ! And still Was there about his ways an ease, A grace of port, which spoke of power 'Midst the refined to sway and please — Perchance in many a foregone hour, In senate hall or lady's bower Displayed. However this might be, None seemed to know his history ! 'Twas deemed he sought to cloak his mind, So little did he seem inclined To speech — while not the evening wind In its soft utterances more mild ! — And with the Indians he was styled, Sententiously, The Silent Tongue ! Yet when occasion called, so clear And keen his accents stung the ear, They seemed electrical ; among 16 HESTER. The hosts of battle's fierce array, Where thickest centered the affray, They would have won implicit sway, And hurled the staggering squadrons on. With thunder shock to victory won, Or turned them back in proud retreat From decimation or defeat ! So Knox long years thereafter, when America with Albion's might Was pitched in desperation's fight, With thunder voice controlled his men - Though in the* battle's sulphurous pall Wrapped from his eye, when bugle call Had sounded oft and shrill in vain, Amidst the wildering hurricane, To hurl them onward or restrain — Controlled, and had the power to wield O'er all the tumult of the field ! His habitation, staunch and rude, Accorded with the solitude THE CABIN. 17 And lonely aspects of the wild ; Its walls the fragrant larch trunks piled Upon each other, but so hewn And fitted that the sea-born gale Oft wont, when nights grew long, to tune Adown the rocks its spectral wail, O'er all their surface sought in vain For chink or interstice, to gain Admittance with the mournful tale ; While birch-rind from the neighboring hill, Stitched and adjusted with a skill Learnt of the red man, formed a roof 'Gainst all the storms of winter proof! Wainscot and floors of glabrous deal Within, did service to conceal Defects, and give an atmosphere Of snugness and of homely cheer ; While round the windows, o'er the door And stoop, were bits of carvings quaint — Sea-griffins, ghouls, such as of yore The ship-wright loved to carve or paint, 18 HESTER. To deck some favorite craft — debris, Which, haply years long, coursing o'er The winding currents of the sea, At length were borne to this far shore ; And marking them, the thoughtful mind Was led unconsciously away To ponder what strange haps combined To beach them in this lonely bay ! Whence did they come ? In what far land Was fashioned by the builder's hand The stately vessel they bedecked ? In what strange quarter was she wrecked ? Was it beneath the sweeping wave That lashed some bleak and dreary coast Of arctic wilds, long tempest tost, Her wildered sailors found their grave — Where mankind shun to make a home, Her timbers strewed the breakers' foam ? Or was it on the southern main, While wrestling with some hurricane, That iron bolt and oaken grain THE WRECKS, 19 Gave way ? Or were her ribs of oak Crushed inward by the lightning's stroke, In some unlooked-for gust, where none Might hear her booming signal gun ? Or does the hulk from which were torn These fragments, rude and tempest worn, Still on the lonely billows ride, Wherever gale or currents guide — The long sea-mosses from her side Out-trailing like a mermaid's hair — Perchance some hideous monster's lair, That twines his sluggish folds among Her blackened ribs ? or may it be, In lieu of grosser tenantry, With some recluse bird of the sea, Rearing within her ports her young — Where once the sailor sought his rest, Watching the lone waste from her nest With filmy eyes ? Such thoughts indeed Well might these relics quaint suggest To those who chanced to give them heed. 20 HE S TE E How strange that watery solitude ! That waste of waves ! where surge and gale- I sometimes think escaped the pale Of Nature's laws — hold revel rude, And roaring on from clime to clime, Around the lonely world spread wrack And desolation in their track — - Escaped from law, perchance, what time The laboring universe gave birth, 'Midst chaos, to the groaning earth ! Such was the Island Home. It stood Amidst a spacious upland glade On all sides sheltered by the wood, Save to the south, where far displayed, The blue expanse of ocean lay Lonely and vast, for well-a-day ! In those times rarely did the eye O'er all the wide a sail descry ! The luxuriant woodbine from the shore Transplanted, and induced to trail THE DAUGHTER 21 About the stoop, and eves, and o'er The windows, with its glossy vail Of green and crimson, draped from view What of the work showed want of skill ; And such wild shrubs and flowers as grew Among the glens and up the hill — The golden rod, gay columbine, Wood sage, blue aster, eglantine, And crimson fire-weed's plumy stalks, Disposed along the winding walks, Gave evidence that woman's care And beautifying taste, were there. And thus it was : an only child, The lovely Hester, was the light Of this rude cabin of the wild ; The very desert would have smiled In such a presence ! yet despite Her dimpled cheek, her soft blue eye, Her voice so fraught with music's thrill, The shrewd observer might espy The traces therein of a will 22 HESTER. That scorned restraint, the soul of firo That slumbered in her tacit sire. No less the ocean when at rest, In deep mid-summer quiet, mild And gentle as a sleeping child, Bears in the heavings of its breast The tokens of that fearful power Which in the storm's triumphal hour, O'ercomes all strength, mocks all control, Is of itself the ruler sole ! An Indian girl (Otraska named), Possessing all the litheness, grace, And strength, which signalized her race Ere they grew spiritless and tamed — Of earnest eye, and raven hair That flashed about her dusky chest, Was the companion everywhere Of Hester, constantly her guest. Few with more skillfulness could ply The oar than they, or trim the sail ; THE COMPANIONS. 23 The same, when gloomed a windy sky, And hissing swept the wild wave by, As when scarce ruffled by the gale, The billow slept upon the ledge, And hardly the increasing tide Stirred with its flow the pliant sedge That grew upon the inlet's side, 'Mong which the minnows loved to glide. Indeed, it was their chief delight, When combed the far seas feather-white, To steer out on the roughening bay With leaning prow and flying spray, And gunnel ready to submerge Itself beneath the flashing surge ! The coast and country far and near Had they explored ; the solitudes Of those interminable woods That inland swept, where the red deer, The lordly moose and caribou Wandered in herds ; the steeps where grew The beetling pines upon whose crests 24 HESTER. The fierce bald eagles built their nests ; The dark ravines and lonely glens Where bear and wolf oft had their dens ; The outer rocky islands nude And desert, 'midst whose sedgy shales, And crags thrown up by wintry gales, The gull and gannet reared their brood ; The inlet and sequestered bay Where the lithe billow, got astray From ocean's grasp, came in to play On the long, listless summer day ; Each jutting cape, each sandy beach That fringed the shores in circling reach, Each sunny valley, sheltered dell — For many a league they knew full well. Such were these friends, whose hearts had grown Accordant, one in beat and tone, Though so at variance through their life Their training ; still those stormy times Of harsh oppression, wrong, and strife, With all their named and nameless crimes, THE SERVITORS. 25 Prolific as they were of change, Oft wrought companionship as strange ! The other actors on our stage, Were two, a dame of middle age (Good Marjory, the household wife), And a grave wight whose school of life Had been perchance the tented field ; At least he had a soldier's air, And then the lank and silvery hair Trained o'er his ample brow, concealed But partly several sweeping scars, Such stern chirography as wars Inscribe ! And e'en though getting old, There was that in his deep-set eye And firmly measured stride that told Of one on whom you might rely When danger threatened ! In his day Of strength he would have been detailed The foremost, where some dread affray Demanded nerve, when others paled ; To stand at some weak point assailed, 26 HESTER. Or storm some leaguered hold, and cope With odds where vain seemed even hope A sort of chief purveyor he, Or steward, stout Carl Hildebrand, Puissant second in command O'er forces of the sea and land, All told, as has been seen, the three — Hester, Otraska, Marjory — Unless we count a brace of hounds That followed his accustomed rounds, Huge-limbed athletes devoid of fear, Match for those mighty forest deer The moose and caribou — or still Distend the tale, and eke include The veteran anaks of the wood, Far marshaled over slope and hill, Firm-footed pine, and beech, and oak, With thews to dare the thunder stroke — Here in dark column thickly met, Yon trailing out upon the plain, As mustering for some grand campaign ; THE CHIEFTAIN. 27 Anon like straggling sentries set Atop some wave-washed parapet ; With long endurance gray and knurled. Colossi of a primal world ! But of the chief we're losing sight, Paul Ravenswood — so was he hight — Some hinted, did he so incline, He might have claimed himself a knight Or baron of some famous line Of far-descended Saxon blood. There was that, plainly, in his mood At times, which left room for belief He was not what he seemed to be ; And rankled in his breast some grief Of import deep, some mystery Of woe which he would fain ignore, But which sometimes swept strangely o'er His heart, and shook his iron frame, And drove the sweat from every pore ; And at such times he went and came Like one who walks in dreams, nor gave 28 HESTER. He heed to aught on land or wave ; As if some kyanized regret Were in his heart. But in what way It had the power anew to fret, And sear, and rankle, none might say. Still happily these moods were rare — His not a mind to nurse despair. CHAPTER II. The table of the chieftain — pride Of good dame Madge, and free as air To every one who came to share Its store — was bounteously supplied The seasons round. The virgin soil Unstinted gave with little toil Their bread ; and swarmed the neighboring sea To yield its kind as lavishly. The green downs furnished ample feed For herds and flocks of stal worth breed — Nor lacked they venison, when the deer Oft from his forest beats came near, And browsed and gamboled without fear Of man — and as to feathered game, So plenteous was it everywhere, 30 HESTER So little used to gun and snare, That Marjory had but to name To Carl the species which she sought, And as a thing of course 'twas brought ! And long through all the region round, Did it continue to abound — Till recent years. — I mind me well With what delight an aged sire, In my fond boyhood, used to dwell — While seated at his winter fire — Upon the theme ! Chained to my seat, In his rude cabin, at his feet, I'd hear him o'er and o'er repeat The wondrous tales, and never tire : How in the broomy solitude At every turn, the ptarmigan Whirred outward with his startled brood ; And how the quail, unused to man, Cowered spell-bound, when the hunter's aim Made havoc in the hurtling flock ; WILDFOWL. 31 How flocked the brant when autumn came, And black ducks, round each sedgy rock, And in each lonely nook and bay ; What flights of pigeons filled the sky, Darkening like thunder clouds the day At times, as host on host swept by, With roar like tempest-ridden seas, Crushing to earth the bravest trees Like rushes, in their headlong strife To settle — storms of feathered life ! How the swan's call notes, clear and lone, Like hunter's horn remotely blown, Swept fitfully upon the ear, When in his migratory flight, He marked the signs of coming night, And pausing in his swift career High o'er the ocean, turned aside Upon Presumpscot's sedgy tide, To feed and preen his shattered plumes ; And how amidst the forest glooms The timorous partridges would 'bide 32 HESTER. The hunter's firelock, stunned, or dazed With the discharge, as oft he blazed Upon their covey. — Such the bent Of my old friend. With brow o'ersprent By upwards of a century's snows, He lay down in his last repose Long years ago. And not a trace Of him or his is to be found, — Hut, sheltering oak, or garden-bound, Or even of the lowly mound That marked his final resting place ; Yet had his tales such charm for me, That I have never ceased to be From those days up, and ardently, A student of the feathered race ! CHAPTER III 'Twas summer — day was on the wane ; There had been fitful squalls of rain And thunder, and the clouds engrailed And torn, still o'er the ocean trailed Their sombre robes. A kindred gloom The elder Ravenswood depressed, And to and fro he paced his room, With knitted brow and wild unrest ! A missive lay upon the floor, With broken seal, the apparent cause Of this strange mood. A sudden pause And seizing it, his eye ran o'er The contents quickly. " Even here," At length he muttered, u no escape 34 HESTER. From this close net-work ! Must I fear The demon ever lurking near, In some new aspect, some new shape, Just as success seems gained, to foil My shrewdest strategy and toil ? Here in this wild, where all unknown, I thought in exile to atone For the sad past ! What madman freak, What fiend of mischief bade him seek For us in this obscurity ? — My brain whirls ! — Hester, was it she ? But no ! she had none to employ On such an errand. " Sooth ! the boy Indites it nobly ! — Generous, high In purpose — ah ! but knew he why I shun his presence, how the world He paints, of beauty, love, and light, Would be at once to ruin hurled, And chaos intervene, and night ! " Once I was equally elate SOLILOQUY. 35 With life and hope — but let that pass ! — 'Tis well we cannot know what fate Keeps hoarded for us — and alas ! Fond boy ! 'twere better let thee grieve Awhile in doubt, than to deceive Thy heart with promise which can ne'er Be realized ! Thou wouldst come here, Across the sea, to this far land, To ask of me my daughter's hand — Her heart of hearts already thine — But 'sdeath ! thy suit she must decline, Though wedded to thy inmost soul ! " — And here a shudder o'er him stole — " 'Twas well betimes I got this scroll ; Forewarned, in season we must fly — Perhaps beneath a fairer sky, In some far region of the west, We may find secresy and rest ! " Or, would it be of more, avail To bide his coming, and the tale Divulge in full ? — It might be borne, 36 HESTER. His rage — but no, not Hester's scorn ! Heaven shield me ! Of her love bereft, What in this sad world would be left Worth living for ? " — and he grew white As sea foam. — " What then ? do despite To all the longings of my heart, And bid him haughtily depart ; And counsel Hester upon pain Of my undying curse, no more This foolish fondness entertain For the brave youth ? " — Just here the door Swung open, and the daughter stood In all the bloom of maidenhood Before him. " Father, why that sigh ? " She spake — " what is it clouds thy mind ? — Why thus so oft to gloom inclined ? — I too am sad, I know not why — But something weighs upon my brain, As if some evil did impend Above me ! wheresoe'er I wend, I strive to banish it in vain ! MYSTERIOUS MUSIC. 37 And most perplexing to explain, At times wild music greets my ear, Which Madge has vainly sought to hear — Soul-haunting strains ! Indeed I fear I know not what, I know not why ! " The father fixed his keen, gray eye Upon the girl, as if to read Her inmost thoughts — she paid no heed ; He saw his secret was his own, And breathed more freely — his alone. " I wonder not you seem amazed," The girl resumed, " and deem me crazed ! Strange heavenly music ! fraught with spells I can't describe — along the air It gently breathes, or sinks and swells ; It fills the heart, is everywhere ! But listen, and it fades and dies, Like the lark's carol in the skies Of our own home-land, when the bird Sinks in the blue, and can't be heard — So gradually I scarce can say 38 HESTER. o When it has wholly passed away ! "And then again, I think at times Perchance the little bell-formed flowers Upon the cliffs might ring such chimes, Swung by the zephyrs ; or far showers Tinkling upon some streamlet, deep, And girt by sheltering rocks and trees, That echo to their harmonies ; Until some sudden, startling sweep Comes close upon me to confound The thought ! Then, every object round In turn seems gifted with the sound ! " And once those mountains far and lone, Heaved up against the burning sky, As their dim summits caught my eye, Seemed vocal with this phantom tone ; A troop of golden vapors hung In slumberous quiet o'er their crest, And to my brain the fancy sprung, These were pavilions of the blest, DISTANT MOUNTAINS. 39 And that it was their golden lyres I heard — the songs of angel choirs ! " Dost know, dear father, of the land Whence tower those mighty mountains ? — Oh, How often when the west winds blow, And odors fragrant thence are fanned, And their lone forms are all aglow With rose hues, have I longed to know Of their green vales, their sparkling streams, Their jeweled caverns/cloud-wreathed peaks, And deep, wild glens — even in my dreams The same ! How many days, or weeks Of travel would it occupy To reach their confines ? Huge and high Indeed, of untold height they are, So like a shadow on the sky They always rest — and very far ! So mist-like in their dim relief ! — When I once asked the Indian chief, — Good Squanto, if his race could tell About them, he but shook his head, 40 HESTER. And turned away, as if with dread ! — I wonder if of mankind dwell Among their valleys, calm, and free, And happy, ignorant of crime And law I Sure if there be a clime Arcadian, as in poesy Is sung, who knows but it may be Among those blue, lone steeps, afar From the world's turbid rush and jar ? " But these are fancies, you may say ; — Not so with this weird music, nay ! Just as I tell thee do I hear, Distinct, and definite, and clear ! 'Tis no chimera of my brain ! " — " Nor do I doubt, but can't explain ; " Returned the parent — " 'Tis not new To me that such things are, or seem ; Thy mother, ere she bade adieu To earth, as in seraphic dream, Discoursed of such environment, Blest visions, soul-entrancing strains, OCCULT NATURE. 41 Which wrapped her being so intent, That all forgotten were her pains ! — Some hold such marvels have their source With dwellers in immortal day, With whom we may hold intercourse, The circumstances favoring, may ; But as to this, I've naught to say. Man's an enigma — sense, life, breath, Thought, visions, locomotion, death — Evolving ever some new phase His shrewdest student to confound ; A riddle none have solved, a maze None can, none ever will expound ! " I know not but these things are so ; 'Twere well, however, to be slow To heed, e'en where we think we know ; But in my wanderings in the East, I met with earnest, thoughtful men, Who claimed supernal powers — at least, The Past and Future to their ken Seemed as the Present. Like a roll 42 HESTER. Well conned my whole life seemed to be, The secrets of my inmost soul, To these adepts of mystery ! I sought induction to their rites, Became as an acolothist Among them, and weird sounds and sights Familiar were, till scarce I wist Myself a being of earth ! But list ! We will not further talk prolong — The whippoorwill begins his song, And day has faded from the west — Thy nerves, it may be, lack for rest ; Go to thy dreams — the good and true Have naught to fear — till morn adieu ! " She rose and stooped her snowy brow To meet his kiss, then left the room, Wondering at his strange mood ; and now Reverting to the ruthless gloom That had enthralled his breast before, Again he wildly paced the floor — Paced up and down, and to and fro, THE DECISION. 43 Now with quick strides, now lingering, slow — At length he paused, and muttered — " No ! She did not read me ; and that tale Of marvel was of some avail ; But how escape the threatened blow ? Should we attempt again to fly, To seek concealment from this youth, Is there a land beneath the sky That would escape his search ? — In truth 'Twere futile ; better far deny His suit at once ! — It shall be done Before goes down to-morrow's sun ! Yes, my poor girl ! however hard It may be for thee to discard The stripling, 'tis the last recourse — But love must seem my guide, not force, In this proceeding, for full well I know that once roused to rebel, No earthly power would serve to quell Thy spirit. — Now to con my task ! The story to assume, the mask To cloak my purpose, and conceal 44 HESTER. My throbbing heart, come wo, come weal ! " And here, aweary of his woes, The chieftain sank into his chair, And soon in sleep was lost to care — Nor did he stir from his repose Till the red streaks of morning threw Athwart the dusky room their glow ; When roused, with measured step and slow, He sought the dreaded interview ! — What came thence, 'tis enough to know That hours thereafter, wrapped in thought Intense, at times like one distraught, The pale girl wandered, so intent On some keen pang, that where she went She knew not ; yet one faithful friend, Alert to mark the passion-whirl That thralled her, managed to attend Unseen her steps, — the Indian girl Otraska — flitting stealthily, From rock to rock, from tree to tree ; Now coming near with breathless hush, THE LOOK-OUT. 45 And step so light as scarce to crush The delicate anemone ; Now in some long detour with speed Of the young frightened fawn to fly, O'er knoll, and rock, and grassy mead, Yet so as not attract her eye, But always in a moment nigh ! And Hester, rambling on, at length, With throbbing brow and failing strength, Attained a lofty bluff, and sank O'erwearied on its mossy bank. It was a cherished spot, a steep Surmounted by a mighty pine, That prone above the hissing brine, Had ages balked the tempest's sweep, And seemed in its strong boughs to hold Life-lease of ages yet untold ! . Here oft beneath the grateful shade, In converse with the Indian maid, Had she the summer evening passed, Scanning the lone and shadowy vast, 46 HESTER. As if to catch some distant mast, That in its advent still delayed ; And still and still shunned to appear, Though sought when other nights drew near ! The cool breeze kissed her fevered cheek, And tossed, in wantonness and freak, The brown locks o'er her pearly neck, And from her bosom loosed the dress To revel with its snowiness — A freedom which she did not reck, Or, conscious of, cared not to check ; — The billow, scouring up the bay With lifted crest and fleet career, Leaped like a thing that seeks its prey, Above the sunken ledges near, And belching high its eager spray Towards her, strove to climb the rough And shaggy ramparts of the bluff ; But foiled, retired, reluctant, slow, And seemed with elfin voice and low, While swinging back, and to and fro, THE ILLUSION. 47 To beckon her to seek relief On its broad bosom, for her grief ; And pressing near, the sea-born gale Repeated the alluring tale, And even the little cliff flowers bent And beckoned — nodding their assent ! So strongly this illusion grew Ere while, that she arose, and drew, Like as one dreaming, to the verge, And looked down wistful at the surge, That seemed all o'er with rainbows dyed, As for reception of a bride ! She stooped — Otraska to her side Sprang swift as light, and grasped her arm ; At once was broke the fearful charm ! — " The pale face Hester lacks for rest ; " At length the faithful Indian spake — " A shadow broodeth on her breast, The night-storm on the pleasant lake [**' — " Storm ! sayst thou ? — shadow ! — these pass by And leave a fairer, bluer sky ; 48 HESTER. Nay, not a shadow — Oh, my brain ! And then to think from whom the pain ! — " Otraska, doth the Indian know What 'tis to love ? Didst ever feel Thy pulses hound, thy bosom glow — A thrill o'er all thy senses steal, When he approached— the loved and true, And noble — who e'en rendered you More of devotion than you gave ? Such was Lord Hubart, whom I knew In my far home beyond the wave ; Fate severed us, — we had to fly (My parent, wherefore should not I ?) So suddenly — I scarce know why — They gave me not a moment's space, A single farewell line to trace ; Bat hurried with a headlong speed On board a ship ; the winds were free, And ere I well could think indeed, We were out on the wide, lone sea. Four years have vanished since our flight, THE CONFERENCE. 49 Nor from that inauspicious night, Have I from merry England heard, Nor of Lord Hubart, even a word ! " " And wherefore does the pale face wait So long ? Has she not power to send A token to her absent friend ? " " Yes, but for dread of dubious fate — 'Twas hinted some affair of state (A thing you scarce can comprehend, Otraska) bade my father flee ; And freedom, safety, may depend — E'en life — upon our secresy ! And yet sometimes I am in doubt But that it all refers to me ; But how or why, cannot make out ! 'Tis all a weft of mystery — Ne'er more confounding than this morn, When with the sun my father came, Pale and perplexed, and overworn, As if with some vexed passion torn. — At last he mentioned Hubart' s name — 50 H E S T E E . And when I felt the warm blood flush My features, as it ever will At that loved sound, he marked the blush, As with an agonizing thrill ; And then what did he, but implore That I would banish evermore All thought of Hubart from my heart ! — Not slow to note my sudden start At this rude blow — 'twas for my sake, He wildly urged ; my future rest And happiness were all at stake On my assent to this request. " In vain I strove the fact to state, I had not known of Hubart' s fate For years — or if alive or dead — Indeed, I scarce know what I said — He only sadly shook his head ; It seemed to aggravate his pain ! — And herein seemed his greatest dread, That I should ask him to explain I Our words grew warm ; I begged for time THE CONFERENCE 51 To ponder o'er this seeming freak ; He plead, 'Twas scarcely less than crime ! — But said at last, that for a week Peremptory duties called him hence — And if at all he must delay, The time was fixed — my better sense Meantime would lead me to obey ; The more as for my weal alone He urged the prayer, and not his own. — Then leaving, with a kind caress, So fond, and yet beseechingly, I could but pity his distress, Whilst mine own had no sympathy — Resolved, perplexed, elated, sad, By turns — this clash will drive me mad ! " — " Hugh ! " cried the Indian, in reply, Whilst limbs, nor breath, nor tawny skin — Naught but her fixed and lustrous eye, Gave token of the heart within — " Perhaps dark tidings may have reached The pale faced sachem of the isle, 52 HESTER. Of this young brave ? "— " His truth impeached ! " Said Hester, with a scornful smile, " His fame, his honor doubted — no ! — Wherefore such mystery if 'twere so ? I sometimes grasp another thing — He once gave me a signet ring, Constructed with a hidden spring So fixed, none would the ruse suspect, Or fancying it, could well detect ; Within its cavity I placed A word or two minutely traced, In short, the simple words ' Still true ' ! And freighted thus, dispatched it hence ; Who knows but this has had to do, If wrong has come, with the offense ? Old Squanto took it on his way To visit Massachusetts Bay, Whence furthered it would go by sea ; I know your kin's fidelity ! He would have answered with his life Upon its safe delivery ! otraska's story. 53 But this but guesses at the strife In which I am involved. — " Ah me ! My best friend, guard that trustful heart ; — How ! why that cringe, that sudden start ? Hast thou seen trouble ? By the nonce ! I hardly had supposed it so." — " Otraska had a lover once ; " Quoth the red girl, in voice so low And mournful, that the listener's breath Was checked as by the hush of death To hear — " the noblest of his race Was young Cashura — as the oak For strength, the slender fir for grace ; The old braves listened when he spoke, For wisdom beamed upon his face ; The last was he upon the chase To tire, the first to track the foe, And none who dared his vengeful blow Escaped — yet frank and kind as brave — The white man's truest friend — he fell ! How, let the white man's rifle tell ! — 54 HESTER. I know the pathway to his grave, In the deep forest where the day Comes with but dim and timid ray — I often seek his place of rest, To strew the wild flowers on his breast." — * Sad tale ! " said Hester, as with awe ; " Otraska must have felt the sting Of anguish, deep and withering — My kin have much to answer for ! " — " The Indian girl did suffer grief ! " Was the response — " she loved her chief ! And dearly has the white man paid For life so heartlessly betrayed ! " The English maiden's blood ran chill At these last measured words, but still With calmness she essayed to speak — " I too Cashura's grave will seek With the red girl." — Otraska shook Her head despondent ; yet her look Showed untold thanks, as she replied, "No, lady ! evil would betide — otraska's STORY. 55 His spirit might be grieved, I fear, Should foot of pale face venture near ; Otraska hither goes to moan, And chant the song of death, alone ! " Heart-stricken, Hester turned away To hide the tears she could not stay ; " Thus for my countrymen's sad deeds ! " At length she murmured — " from such seeds, A harvest choked with noxious weeds Wherefore not readily foretell ? — Otraska ! they belie thy race, Who say that gentle thoughts ne'er dwell With such — beneath that frigid face A wealth of feeling lies concealed, Which, goaded into angry mood, Might gloat in treachery and blood ; But fostered properly, would yield The kindlier virtues in such store, As earth had never known before ! " CHAPTER IV. A shout ! It was Carl Hildebrand, Upon the opposite rocky knoll, Returning, gun and game in hand, From his accustomed daily stroll, Who hailed ; a ship approached the strand ! A ship ! caught they the words aright ? For such was an unwonted sight To that uncharted, lonely sea ! And turned the maidens eagerly, All other feelings put to flight, To scan the waste. A vessel sure ; Against the sky's blue wall, far o'er The waves she crept, cloud-like and dun, Inbound perchance for Richmond Isle, Thus sighted early by the sun 58 HESTER. Which just betrayed her canvas pile ; But gradually clomb sail on sail Above the broad horizon's brim, Pressed by the jocund Southern gale, Until the phantom gray and dim, Grew palpably upon the view, A thing of pride and grandeur grew, And life-like in her onward march, Drove the green surges as in play, In troops before her up the bay, Or rolled them them o'er in foam and spray ; The noblest thing 'neath heaven's high arch ! She scorned the shore, approaching near, And turned away ; and soon again With leaning spars, in full career, Was out upon the lonely main, Her white wings hugging close the gale, Behind her far a sparkling trail — A gossamery weft of snow, Which the vexed waves toss'd to and fro, As if with the intent to show A SHIP. 59 Indignity towards this queen Of ocean with the lofty mien ! To the far sea-brink did she spin The fleecy band. And Hester saw Chagrined, the buoyant craft withdraw ; — As though she had but just looked in A moment from her lonely home Amidst the wide, wild ocean's foam ! — But ere her haven she can hail, Another day must flush the sky ; Already do the gannets fly Towards the land, and night is nigh ; And with the coming shades the gale, Checked by the falling dews, will fail. Even now the breeze more gently fanned Her pinions, and again she turned, Joy ! joy ! — towards the welcome land ! And when the last bright embers burned Of sunset on the purple walls Of Wampanhegan's mountain halls, Far inland, flushing earth and tide 60 HESTER. With glory, effluent and wide, She dropped her anchor off the shore ; Then from her smooth black side there broke A sudden puff of snowy smoke, And boomed the signal gun — a roar That waked the echoes o'er and o'er, Of caverned rock, and sleeping wood, And deep untrodden solitude, And died upon the golden floor Of ocean, roaming many a league, The lonely waters, where no ear Of man, the heavy peal might hear ; And then as one that feels fatigue, She folded her white wings to rest, And slept upon the billow's breast. Slowly the night stole up the sky ; The weary gale had hushed its breath, And all was as the trance of death, Save the belated sea-bird's cry, Or when the waves knocked 'gainst the ledge, Or, clutching with the heavy sedge, AN EVENING SCENE. 61 Drew the long tresses o'er its edge, And tugged to keep them down the brine, As 'twere, — with hisses which might seem Like some sea-griffin's smothered scream— So foemen sometimes intertwine, And pant and struggle in a strife That only deigns to cease with life ! Night deepened beautiful and calm ; • The lambent atmosphere all balm With breath of flowers, that secret grew In glens, and nooks, and coverts, known To the dun hermit-grouse alone, Or which the foot of man ne'er knew, Abroad lured by the gentle dew ; — The maidens had the cottage sought — And Hester, lost in dreamy thought, Sat just within the rustic stoop, From which, in many a wreath and loop, The wood-bine's tasselled fringes hung — Her friend Otraska near her, flung Beneath the oak, whose branches made 62 HESTER. In summer heats the household's shade, And with its wide-spread, leafy woof, Was almost to night's dampness proof; And not a shrub or leaflet stirred — Nor chirp of cricket, nor of bird, Disturbed the trance so deep and still, Not even the nightly whippoorwill. Oh, words can scarcely paint such scene ! The wide, dim sea, and to the right The anchored ship, were full in sight ; And rising in the east serene, With pearly veil just drawn aside From her pavilion, night's fair bride, The moon, looked down with loving glance Upon the mystic, dim expanse — So mild her light as scarce to fleck The tiny wavelets, when they strayed Beyond the steep cliff's wooded shade ; And from the stranger vessel's deck Each murmur rose distinct, and clear, And musical, upon the ear. FESTIVITY. 63 O'erjoyed those voyagers seemed once more To greet the teeming, fragrant shore — The words they spake, the songs they sung, Were in the English girl's own tongue ; And on their harmony she hung, Till following fancy's winding maze, She trod the scenes of other days, The cynosure of pride and praise, And to that faithful heart was pressed — How fondly cherished and caressed ! One voice on board rose full and free, And more than any other stirred The secret founts of memory — She caught and treasured every word ; 'Twas thus the stranger sang, and gave His soul, as 'twere, in every stave ! SONG. The evening tints bedeck the sky, The setting sun smiles on the s sea 64 HESTER. The woods and hills the pageant vie ; But wert thou near to look with me - How lovelier far the scene would be ! I trace the wild fowl speeding on Far through the amber-lighted dome, Till in the dim horizon gone ; Once they induced a wish to roam, But now thou art my heart's sole home ! I mark the beacon's steady gleam, Along the distant, fading shore, Through twilight's calmly falling dream ; So steadily, unchanging, pure, My heart turns to thee evermore. There's not a scene, a star, a bloom, Hath aught of beauty to my view — So closely clings my cherished doom — Save thou art near to witness too, And then how rose-hue d, bright, and new ! FANCIES. 65 But go ! thou art estranged — 'twere well We were oblivious that we've met ! Still in my bosom's inmost cell Thine image is forever set, And I at least can ne'er forget ! Hast never marked how some wild strain, That comes unlooked for to the sense, Will wake an echo in the brain, Far off, or more or less intense, As if it had been there before ? Not that the listener may explore The past, and tell the when or where ; Hence earnest students would declare Such things suggest a previous life, Are glimmerings of another sphere, Where mortal man did once inhere, And ran, perchance, a checked career, Ignoble or sublime, long ere He trod the present stage of strife. Thus Hester hung upon each note 66 HESTER. Entranced, and when they ceased to float Across the wave, around her cast, And vainly importuned the past — How fondly, urgently — to tell The secret of their mystic spell ! She thought of her betrothed, but no, E'en had he haply found his way Across the sea to this far bay — And marvel 'twere, if this were so — His voice had not such depth and flow ; Still was the riddle unexplained. — But by degrees, the merry din Was hushed, shout, song, and mandolin ; Yet not until the hours had waned Towards the sober noon of night, And in the high moon's ambient light, The shadows of the firs had drawn Around their bases, on the lawn, And like a timid thing lay hid Each 'neath its gothic pyramid. CHAPTER V. The gates of morn again unclose — But long ere from his couch uprose The Prince of Day, his herald-rays, In flying squadrons, all ablaze With gala trappings, filled the arch Of heaven — advanced his oriflame, And took possession in his name As 'twere — and pressed their onward march Far down the west. Meanwhile the deep, Entranced and panting still in sleep, Reflected back the vermeil, gold — The wealth of burning hues untold — So that the eye could scarce define Where blent the sky and watery line ; And inland each defiant hill, 68 HESTER. And sea-like forest, grand and still, Each ridge, and slope, and towering tree, Far down into the realms where night Still swayed, plumed with the purple light, Enhanced the gorgeous pageantry ! And even the stern bluffs of the shore, The earth-fast battlements of rock, God's masonry — with billow-shock And cyclic ages dun and hoar — Begrizzled with their wiry beard Of stinted grasses, blandly shone, But with a port bizarre and weird, Through the thin veil which morn had thrown About them — veil of violet mist, Like dust of powdered amethyst, Wove of the exhaling dews I wist — Conforming to the wide display Which ushered in the Prince of Day ! The stranger still lay weather-bound, Just in the narrows of the sound, THE SHIP AT ANCHOR. 69 Tall, moveless, with a look elate — Unchanged in her appearance, save That she had found a phantom-mate, A counter-self adown the wave, Where every spar, and line, and brace, As in a mirror, ye might trace, All was so tranquil ! Not a fold Of her regalia was unrolled — And uselessly did old Carl try To make out from her flag's emboss, As it hung listless 'gainst the sky, The outlines of St. George's cross ; Whilst from her wand-like top-mast fell Her long, gay pennant o'er the stern, To clasp upon the glassy swell One that sprang upwards in its turn, A rainbow-marriage ! Yet that calm, Embracing fiery sky and sea, And shore, seemed ominous of harm — Oppressed with its intensity ! And dawn to full-orbed day gave place, 70 HESTER. Yet not a wandering zephyr's glance Disturbed the leaden, wide expanse ; And sultry day advanced apace, Still ocean slumbered as in trance. — Meantime the voyagers, not displeased As would seem, with the juncture, seized The hours of leisure to explore The deep recesses of the shore, In quest of game ; and jocund shout, And hunting firelock's sharp report, From glen and forest ringing out, With swarms of echoes to retort The din, told of exciting sport ! But doughty, glum Carl Hildebrand Had watched the strangers come to land, With eye askance — and frowned to hear The dissonance, nor would go near ; And yet 'twas plain his noble heart, Devoid of tinsel and of art, In this remissness had no part. Perhaps 'twas over-anxious fear CARL'S FIRMNESS. 71 Of evil to his absent friend, Should he upon their sports attend ; Perhaps — but whatsoe'er might be The cause, if cause there were, in vain Did Hester cavil and complain Against such rude discourtesy — So she, half vexed, half playfully, Inclined to christen his neglect — The old man only shook his head As if with some instinctive dread, Albeit not wanting in respect ; Indeed, his bearing scarce had been More reverent, had she been a queen, And he some squire of low behest — And such invariably his mein Towards her. Still, but once impress' d With sense of duty, howe'er slight, As well attempt to drive the light Of dawn back to the realms of night, As put his scrup'lous fears to flight — A firmness grafted by the drill Of camps upon an iron will ! 72 HESTER. At length despairing of success, The maiden ceased her suit to press, And turning to Ostraska, who But rarely answered with a nay To any scheme she had in view, Took boat and launched upon the bay, Her own pet skiff — in hope perchance (Like errant knight of old romance), That some complacent circumstance Would end her curiosity — Thus baffled all the more intense — Concerning who, whereof and whence, The stranger visitants might be. Beneath the shore the cool, dank trees, Impending o'er the emerald tide, Attract a slight, inconstant breeze, With which the maidens gently glide Out on the bosom of the wave, Now crowning with its inward flow, Towards the Island of the Cave, (The beauteous Indian Quohago,) THECALM. 73 Which reared its forest green and brave, Westward, away a league or so, Like one huge emerald. Yet so slow Their progress, that day grew to noon, And still the cove and grassy dune, And cool oaks wooing from the sun, For which they headed, were not won. Again the wind dropped, and a spell Of silence deep and breathless fell O'er rock, and wave, and glossy wood ; The ospray ceased his plaintive cry, Aud settled downwards from the sky, As anxious for his callow brood ; The solitary more-rain hushed, In the deep glens, his minstrelsy, Upon the reef the swell scarce gushed ; And saving when the swift-winged bee Passed by them on his distant round, So bare was nature of all sound, The ear seemed rifled of its sense ! Meanwhile the sun, a burning ball, 74 HESTER. Dropped downward from the caverned hall Of heaven, glowed with a power intense, And over wave and wold the heat Danced with innumerous fiery feet. But Hester minded not its gleam — Reclined against the shallop's side, Half consciously and half in dream, Her eye swept o'er the brimming tide, And watched above the barren rocks, Far out, the gannet's hovering flocks, Or roamed the shores of distant isles, And marked the inland forest trees Reach up as panting for the breeze ; That still delayed ; or turned from these, To scan the snow-white cloudy piles Which loomed along the Occident — Here in vast toppling volumes sprent With crimson shadows ; there upheaved In huge redoubts and towers, relieved Against the darkly-blue abyss, As outposts of some fortalice THECALM. 75 Of heaven, o'er which strange banners flout With golden fringes, or rolled out In downy hollows multiform, Whereon the spirit of the storm Slept royally ! But not alone Gazed she upon that gorgeous zone Of towering mists ; the Indian girl Had watched each slowly forming curl And volume stealing up the sky By inch and inch, with jealous eye, And reached at length towards the oar. " The fierce wind-spirit comes," she spake In accents that would fear ignore, So calm — " to grasp the woods, and shake The sea, as shakes the wolf his prey ! " " Nay I " was the quiet answer — " Nay, My good Otraska, be at rest — Yon are not wind-clouds, in the west, But rather lengthened heat suggest — No fear of sudden squalls to-day ! " And with this thought she turned away 76 HESTER. Upon the gunnel to recline, And gazed adown the limpid brine (Than which th' incumbent atmosphere Was scarcely more serene and clear), Absorbed to see the sand-drifts gleam And glitter to the sun's fierce beam, In the deep undercurrent's flow, And sea-plants stretch up from below, With bright fish swimming to and fro, And in and out, beneath the shade Her own recumbent shallop made. Just now a sudden, startling shock Aroused her from her reverie ! On the near shore a ponderous rock, Amidst a cloud of dust and smoke, And crash that all the echoes woke, Had tumbled headlong in the sea ! She smiled at fears she deemed but vain, And turned to explore the depths again. Once more the Indian maiden spake THE TORNADO. 77 " Will the pale Hester lift her eye ? "— She needs no second call to wake Her now, to sense of danger nigh ! The volumed clouds enthroned in state About the blue heaven's western gate, . Have suddenly burst up the sky, And pictured tower and battlement Are in chaotic ruin blent, Blackened and shattered, as if rent By some tremendous magazine Exploded — or some volcan-fire Burst upward into awful ire ; The very sky seemed to careen, As if its walls were undermined, With the concussion ! Still no sound Came to the ear, nor breath of wind Disturbed the quietude profound ! " You augured well, my trusty friend,' ' Said Hester — " those swift mists portend No good to us ; but take the oar, We yet have time to reach the shore. 78 HESTER. If handled with a hearty will." No urging needs the dusky maid ; Already has she seized the blade, And plies it with such strength and skill, The little shallop seems to leap Her length towards the land, and thrill As if with life at every sweep ! While her companion trimmed the sail To catch the first breath of the gale, Which not even yet a leaflet stirred ; Both saw the imminence of harm, Yet neither, by a look or word, Gave slightest token of alarm. Just then a smoky column, vast In bulk, and whirling, fiery hot, Like the last belching throes upcast From some wide conflagration, shot Above the forests on the main, To height immense ! — it was the dust Whirled upwards from the distant plain Of Casco, by the swooping gust. THE TORNADO. 79 It comes ! a heavy, smothered din, As of a thousand rapid wheels Deep in some thronging city, steals Along the air ; and struggling in Its fierce embrace, the maidens hear The palpitating waters spin, And hiss, and shudder, while more near The trees seem shivery as with fear ! — " Dip deeply, good Otraska ! — ply Your utmost strength — but half a score Such sweeps, and then to toil good bye " — Cried Hester — " aim straight for the shore ! " Thus earnestly spurred in the race, For once Otraska dropped the mask Of stoicism from her face, And threw her whole soul in the task ; The knotted and empurpled veins, And tense cords in her arms and hands, The gushing sweat, the crimson stains Exuding from the silver bands 80 HESTER. About her wrists, her knitted brow, Her unrobed bosom's sobbings, show What power the promptings of her friend Had, to incite her in the strife ; For as for self the risk of life, If such the tempest did portend, Had scarcely claimed a single thought, — 'Twas Hester's welfare that was sought Alone ■ — so deep the love she bore For her companion. But in vain Her utmost toil — a moment more — The iron hoofs of the hurricane Are on the forest's sons ! — Just then, When o'ertasked strength had nearly failed The Indian, from the neighboring glen, A strong voice, swiftly nearing, hailed : " Give way ! give way, my noble maid ! Strain for your lives ! " and with a bound, Emerging from the leafy shade, A tall youth reached the rocky mound At hand ; but further words were drowned THE TORNADO. 81 In the wild thunder-din and roar That burst adown the wooded shore ! Dim as the night when gusts enshroud The stars and moon in reeling rack, Like the first shock of the attack Of hostile hosts, the whirling cloud Disploded, with resistless sweep — An elemental avalanche — With twisted trunk and shattered branch Wrung from astounded ridge and steep, And shriveled leaves, and knotted grain, And dust, and gravel, from the main — And in its grasp the little sail Shot backwards with a foamy trail, Then bowed and blended with the wave, And to the wildered stranger's gaze, All was commingled in a maze Of dust, and cloud, and lightning blaze, Which wide and whirling, seaward drave ! " Great God of heaven ! they're gone ! they're lost!" 82 HE S TE K. He slowly muttered, as he toss'd From o'er his brow his streaming hair, And scanned the seething vortex where He saw the shallop disappear. — But in the lightening atmosphere At length a something meets his view, Dim and uncertain, but it grew Erewhile into the human form ; And clearer, 'twas the Indian girl — Confused and blinded by the whirl And turmoil of the frightful storm, She still through all the strife sustains Her overwearied friend, and strains To bring her to the jutting reef, Whence he now shouts to her. But brief The slow, convulsive toil — her strength Has gone, and 'neath the waves at length She settles helpless, holding fast Her pale companion to the last ! The stranger youth around him cast ; The gale still raved ; there was no hope Save in himself, and could he cope THE RESCUE. 83 With that wild waste ? To hesitate A moment, was to seal their fate ! — He throws himself upon the sea, And bravely grapples with the surge, Attains the spot, and happily Just as the drowning girls emerge Above the surface. As in spite To be thus bearded in its might, The storm with wilder fury stoops About his path, and whirls and whoops, As loth to yield him up its prey — But still he keeps the surge at bay ; And presently a pale face droops Upon his shoulder, as he turns Again towards the shore, and spurns The justling billows from his side. But human strength cannot abide, Nor human firmness, every test Which life's emergencies present ; His energy, his strength is spent, And wave and wind press hard to wrest Away his charge — his blood grows chill 84 HESTER. Around his heart, his eyesight dim — His limbs refuse to do his will At length ; and clouds and forest swim, And rocks and breakers, round and round, And in his ears there is a sound As of shrill voices ! Then a gush, As close the waters o'er his head — And all is pleasant, dreamy hush ! And fiery lights, green, gold, and red, Dance up and down, and to and fro, Like shooting stars, or swift, or slow, Or pausing, stare with moon-like glow Upon him — then, as on a bed Of down he sank, and o'er his soul Scenes of elysian beauty stole, Such as no tongue could speak ! — He woke To sudden life ! A mighty oak Had been hurled downwards from the ridge By the tornado's arm, and lay With all its boughs, right in his way, A chance arranged suspension-bridge, THE RESCUE. 85 Fast to the rift from which it fell — And smiting him beneath the wave In its descent, had broken the spell Which else had bound him to a grave ! Instinctively he reached and grasped The nearest branch, while still he clasped The lifeless maiden. But again Come clouds and shadow o'er his brain — Round and around spin sea and shore, And as before, strange phantasms throng About him ; but life comes once more, And staggering with his charge along The swinging trunk, he reached the turf Above the rocks, above the surf, And o'ercome with the effort, sank With that pale burden, on the bank, The victory won, — then all was blank ! But sooth ! Otraska's fate doth crave A moment's thought — the true, the brave ! We left her sinking 'neath the sea ! 86 HESTER. But as a native element To her the wave ; and though o'er spent With fierce exertion, yet when free To act for self, she round her cast, And seized on such drift and debris As were brought near her by the blast — And struggling on, though numbed and sore, . With vitals burning as with fire, And scarcely strength left to respire, At last crept oat upon the shore, Behind a bluff that hid the strand Where Hester was conveyed to land. Still roared the frantic tempest by, And seethed and wailed the dark expanse, While all inwoven was the sky With lightning shreds, naught met her glance Beside — of her lost friend no trace — And sick at heart, she dropped her face Between her crossed arms, and there stole A lethean stupor o'er her soul. RECOGNITION. 87 Meanwhile the swoon that had enchained The stranger youth, was giving way ; At last, his consciousness regained More fully, he arose. Still lay The pallid Hester, on the steep Where she had fallen, as in the sleep Of death — her temples backward thrown, O'er which her long, bright tresses twined With ribboned sea-grass, unconfined By comb or bandeau, darkly shone, Contrasting with her marble face, And swelling bosom's virgin snow Unrobed in the swift surge's flow, The embodiment of every grace That lavish nature can bestow ! He gently raised her head — but why The sudden fervor of his eye ? " 'Tis she ! " burst from his lips, " 'tis she ! High Heaven ! — and lost as soon as found ! " Then in a spasm of agony, He caught the pale girl from the ground, 88 HESTER. And held her in his arms, and gazed Upon her features like one crazed ; And o'er and o'er pronounced her name, And from her lips one murmur craved ! — But thought with calmer mandate came, And whispered, May she not be saved If proper care be used and art ? Hope spurs the pulses of his heart, And joyous omen ! to his aid Just now crept up the Indian maid. Quick was her mind to comprehend The deathly peril of her friend, And eke as ready to suggest Restoratives ; for with her race 'Twas sometimes made the sex's place To practice the physician's quest, And often had she marked the strife, In its last stage, 'twixt death and life. CHAPTER VI Life, spirit, soul ! they come and go, But whence or whither who can say ? A something dwells within, we know, And finds expression through the clay — It goes — the cold clay knoweth naught, 'Tis as the clod, the stock, the stone, Inert ! that which designed, and thought, And sympathized, and loved, is gone ! But wherefore should it not be free To seek and own a sympathy With ties which still to life pertain ? If the soul dieth, if our years On earth, of discord, joys, and tears, Be all of life, then life is vain, And Heaven's great work imperfect ! No, 90 HESTER. All records, past and present, show, With types of things still to appear, That not alone to psalm, and song, And visions of the ancient seer, Do these conceits (miscalled) belong ! No ! death is but the second birth — And man, immortal, oft returns, Lured from his spirit-home to earth By his affinities, and yearns, How fondly, deeply, to reveal His guardian interest for our weal ! This Nature's diuturnal law — 'Twas no chimera Brutus saw Stride through his tent — no fleshly monk From whom the Imperial Russian shrunk ; They were not messengers of clay That urged the herdsman Lot away, Ere the doomed cities of the plain Sank 'neath the volcan's fiery rain ; No echoes did the footfalls wake Of that mysterious, shadowy train SPIRITUAL VISITANTS. 91 Whereof the long-haired Samian spake ; It was no deed of art or mime That showed to recreant Saul his crime ; Nor wrote a hand of flesh the scrawl That stunned the royal debauchee Of Babylon 'midst his impious glee, And pointed his approaching fall ! Nor afterwards on Zion's hill, When ancient prophets reappeared, Was it through cabalistic skill, Or subtle necromancer's weird ! Such things are not illusions — nay ! Indeed, it were as well to say All facts our senses comprehend, Upon imagined myths depend ! — Nay ! — still do man-immortals sway In life's affairs ! and often blend With souls of earth, in sweet commune, As chords in some harmonious tune ; And where life's sympathies are strong, The yearning heart may eke prolong 92 HESTER (And solely by the mind-spell's reach) The life despaired of by the leech — Even though be rent the golden chain, Back to its house of clay again May lure the spirit ! Time will show, — Though wild the prophecy may seem And idle as a thoughtless dream — Or soon, or late, that this is so ! Hence not all bolts launched from the bow Of Death, may strike their victims low ! And thus Otraska's strong desire, When all their pains had brought no sign Of life, lured back the immortal fire, It so seemed, to its earthly shrine In that cold, silent tenement — For then, the love and longing pent Within the red girl's heart found vent In outward marks, and to her breast She caught the flaccid form, and pressed Upon that brow her lips of flame, And with a whispered emphasis, HESTER REVIVES. 93 As awe-inspired, pronounced her name, And prayed her to give back a kiss, A pressure of the hand, a smile — In turn appealed, commanded, urged, All other aims and feelings merged In that one earnest thought ! And while She gazes, even now, the quest Is gained — comes back the spirit-guest ! Slowly the drowned girl moves — a sigh Escapes her lips ! — and then anew In swoon she sank, and marble grew ; Anon a deeper breath she drew, And wildered turned her quivering eye Upon Otraska, and then fraught With earnestness more vivid, sought The stranger youth. As gliff and play The summer lightnings far away O'er cloud towers at the shut of day, So flushed the warm blood o'er her cheek ! Anon her lips moved as to speak, And murmured " Hubart ! " 7 94 HESTER. What avail The warp and weft of more detail ? Suffice it that though chill and pale, Thereafter, she but knew the charm Of resting on her lover's arm, And listening to his voice elate, As he betimes went on to state The phases in his own strange fate, Since last they met. That signet ring Old Squanto took to Trimont Bay, Had to his keeping found its way ; The motto in its secret spring — " Still true " — had given to life new zest, And sent him o'er the seas in quest Of her ! And chance, or whatsoe'er You'd name that ever-active power Which balks us oft in life's career, Or brings about the golden hour — The something working for some end, Chance, destiny, a spirit friend, (Or aught that does not interfere THEINLET. 95 With Heaven's supremacy and plan) Had moored his vessel, weather bound, So near her home, upon the sound ; And then again, while he pursued His hunt for game amidst the wood, Had flushed a timid ptarmigan, That hither flew and thither ran, Contriving always to evade His aim, and lured him from his mates A wildering circuit — thus relates Tradition — through the forest's shade, So opportunely to their aid ! And heaven was in their hearts ! Below The shelving, grassy bank at hand, The wavelets with a gentle flow Made soothing music on the strand. The hurricane had ceased to blow, But a lithe, playful zephyr fanned With unseen wings the impending grove, While the deep inlet, now serene As Eden, glowed a matchless scene, 96 HESTER. Worthy the name of " Diamond Cove," By which 'twas known from earliest times ! But that the beauties of the bay Enchained their souls, it hardly chimes With truth or my intent to say — Yet am I ready to depone The pilgrim day-god shineth not On all his rounds, in either zone, Upon a greener, lovelier spot ! For still, though many a year hath flown, And those we treat of are forgot, Save in rude song and roundelay, That wild, secluded inlet smiles, In all its primitive array — The gem of Casco's lovely- isles ! 'Tis sheltered from the ocean's roar By ragged reefs and beetling steeps, Against whose outer bases sweeps The restless wave forevermore ; But naught of billow-shock and din Disturbs the tranquil scene within, THE INLET. 97 Where broad-armed beech, and oak, and pine, With girlish, graceful elm, entwine Their branches o'er its smooth expanse, So that the sun can scarcely glance At mid-day through their leafy gloom About the shores, or zephyr plume Its wings beneath the bank's green shade, Where the tall hermit-herons wade ; While forests dense which ne'er resound To woodman's axe, sweep far around — Nor is man's toil or traces there, But all remains as flush and fair, The sunny slopes, the rocks and trees, As desert isles of Indian seas, That sometimes rise upon the view Of some far-wandered, wind-bound crew, Sleeping alone midst ocean's blue — (From time that earth commenced to run Its course, unknown save to the sun, And drifting cloud, — or vagrant gale, Which, perfumed by their blooms and flowers., In all its rounds found ne'er a sail y*> HESTER. Before, to solace with the tale Of their green shores and Eden bowers !) The lonely ospray rears her brood On tall up-reaching oak or pine, That looks out o'er the boundless brine, Deep in the forest solitude ; And through the long, bright summer day, When ocean, calm as mountain lake, Bears not a breath its hush to break, The snowy sea-gull tilts away Upon the glittering swell that sweeps, With wide-curved and unbroken reach, Around the cliff, from outer deeps, Unwinding up the pebbly beach. Enchanting there is sunset hour, When twilight with a soothing power Steals through the forest-windings dim, And from the thickets, sweet and low, The wood-thrush tunes his farewell hymn To lingering day's empurpled glow ; THE INLET. 99 When slope, and rock, and wood, around, In all their dreamy, hushed repose, Are glassed adown the bright profound ; And passing fair is evening-close, When from the rosy, radiant dome, The sea-birds that have all the day Wheeled o'er the far, lone billows' spray, Come thronging to their eyries home ; When over rock and wave remote, From yon dim fort, the bugle's note Along the listening air doth creep, Now lost a moment in the sky, Anon with sudden, martial sweep, Through glen and forest, clanging high, While echo roused from her retreat, As if in banter would repeat The tumult following in its train, Until the wild, erratic strain, Coursing adown the trackless main, In realms of shadow seems to die. And those who are of thoughtful mood, 100 HESTER. Who love the mystic quietude Of stars — night's sentinel array — (Like him, my early friend, the brave And courteous, long gone to his grave, With whom I oft have whiled away The dusky hours upon the deep, Which most men wisely give to sleep) , Will find still lovelier there, the noon Of night, when as a fairy's bark, The mirrored crescent of the moon Swings on the waters weltering dark ; And in her solitary beam, Upon each hoar, storm-beaten height, The mica crystals flash and gleam, Spangling therocks with magic light — And when from o'er the dim-lit sea, Inflow those strains of mystery Which to night's quietude belong, As of some wandering elfin throng Tuning their spirit-lyres to song — Or when the wakeful breeze comes out The dusky aisles, and breathes about THE INLET. 101 A moment, shaking sweet perfume From every honeyed bell and bloom, Startling the tall pine from its rest, And dreamy wood-bird in her nest, Or fanning the calm water's breast, Then stealing off into the shade, As if it were a thing afraid ! Still is the inlet wild and green As erst, though many years have been Their circuits since occurred the scene Herein detailed ! And when with heats Of summer glow yon city's streets, Their throngs are wont to seek the shades And zephyrs of its fragrant glades — And often do the wide old woods Ring in their deepest solitudes To youthful shout, and song, and glee, And viol's merry minstrelsy ; Speeds well the dance ! the trunks so tall — Rough columns of the festal hall — Sustain a broad and lofty roof 102 HESTER. Of nature's greenest, loveliest woof, Fretted and arched, and sunbeam-proof ; The maiden weaves in lieu of wreath The drooping fern-plumes in her hair, And gay-hued flowers of scented breath, That spring to blossom everywhere Around. The forest's dream-like rest Hath charm to sooth the sorrowing breast, And make the worn and weary blest ! But let us thread the waste of years Back to the period of our tale ! — Around the point a boat appears ; 'Tis Hubart's comrades, who with cheers Approach in answer to his hail, And take the three on board — o'erjoyed To find the lost one, and " employed" (Thus did their leader hint) " so well ! " Brief was the tale each had to tell ; And Hubart's we need not repeat. The crew had found a safe retreat Within a sheltering cave the while RETURNED HOME. 103 The hurricane howled o'er the isle ; And since had searched the region o'er For their companion gone astray, Ridge, swamp, and glen, and winding shore I — Merry anon, the cry " Give way ! Bend to your oars ! " and o'er the tide They shot, while with a look of pride The helmsman glances at the line Of arrowy snow cleft through the brine, Astern ! Nor many minutes passed Before their grapnel was made fast At Isle Chebeague, upon the ledge. Old Carl stood at the water's edge, His thin, lank face perturbed and pale ; The o'erturned boat, the oar and sail, Bound with Otraska's wampum band, All torn, had drifted to the strand, And raised sad fears that 'neath the wave The maidens both had found a grave ! And now their safety was made plain, The fond old man could not restrain 104 HESTER. The turbulence within ; his speech Eventuated in a gasp For breath — and scarcely could he reach The hand extended to his clasp By Hester, or could recognize Otraska in the scanty guise Her struggles with the waves had spared — So keenly do we feel the smart When from the wound is plucked the dart ! But each his gratulations shared Alike, when he had heard them tell Their 'scape ; and often would he say In after times, in earnest way, As if a strange thing to convey, He never knew until that day, He " loved that red-skin half so well ! " CHAPTER VII Again the matin glow of day Comes up the ocean. Hester wakes To hear the clattering windlass brakes On board the vessel, as they weigh Their anchor. Merrily they cheer Their labor ; and with measures long And loud, upon her listening ear Thus sweep the stanzas ol their song : — SONG . There she swings ! to your stations ! Once more We are heading away from the shore ! Sheet home every sail ! Finer breeze Never whitened its track o'er the seas ! 106 HESTER. Chorus : — Tis a race with the sea gulls our trim clipper tries, Watch her sharp ! mind your luff ! we're away ! Huzza for the Peri ! huzza ! how she flies ! How she buries her bows in the spray ! Huzza ! huzza ! huzza ! huzza ! How she buries her bows in the spray ! 'Neath our lee, reef and rock-bounded steep, Where the foam-crested billow doth sweep, They are fading, fast fading from sight ! Such a breeze is the sailor's delight, Chorus : — When the trim and the speed of his own bark he tries, &c. Though above us the dun tempest lower, Give us sea room, we'll laugh at its power ! Oft before we have weathered the gale — Let it come ! ne'er a cheek will grow pale ! Chorus : — 'Tis a race with the sea gulls our trim clipper tries, &c. SAILS LOOSED AGAIN. 107 Ay ! the home of the true and the brave Are the wastes of the dark-rolling wave ! On the shore, men are slaves, but at sea Like the winds, like the waves, they are free ! Chorus : — Tis a race with the sea gulls our trim clipper tries, &c. When Hester came down to the door, And gazed around, far out at sea The ship with flowing sail and free, Dashed through the sparkling brine. She bore The gallant Hubart from the shore, Towards her port of destiny, At Richmond Isle — a few hours' sail, With such a jocund western gale; And not beyond a second day Would he on his return delay — This well she knew, for o'er and o'er, Ere he embarked it had been said. Why then that look of hopeless dread, Of anguish unalloyed and keen, With which she turned, at times, to mark 108 HESTER. The cloudy canvas of the bark Fast fading 'midst the billowy sheen ? He knew the worst — had heard it all From her own lips — the seeming gall, Her father had so deeply nursed Towards him, as to one accursed For some strange crime of deathless fame, Which 'twere pollution even to name ! Or that, at least, such seemed his mood ; In vain the youth had scanned the past To solve the riddle — and at last, Firm in his sense of rectitude, He had determined to embrace The earliest hour, and face to face With her stern parent, to demand An explanation at his hand ! Thus had they parted, but the cheer His presence gave had gone, and fear Had taken its place, almost despair, A voice which seemed to say, Beware Thine evil day — the deadly sin ! THE INTERIOR LAKE. 109 Seemed constantly to prompt within. At length the faithful Indian maid, Who had, with many a furtive look, Apart, beheld the storm that shook The bosom of her stricken friend, And not at loss to comprehend The cause, drew nearer, and essayed With soothing words, to break the spell ; " Otraska's white friend loves to dwell Beside the big sea-water's bounds ! She loves her island home, for here, Where the strong wave its war-whoops sounds, They say, is the Great Spirit near ; But there are other regions where Manito for his own doth care — Beyond the islands of the bay, Beyond the forests, far away O'er many streams, there is a sea Blue as the summer skies, and free As the swift spirit-winds that trace Their shadows on its ample face, 110 HESTER. To which no white man hath come near. The woods around are dark and wide, And in their openings feed the deer, And on its broad and brimming tide, In morning's calm, the maskalunge And red trout love to leap and plunge. " My brethren dwell upon its shore In peace ; their swift canoes skim o'er Its waters — with their spears they take The fish at pleasure from the lake ; And even the youngest hunter's aim Supplies the wigwam-fires with game ! — Otraska hither came to sing The death chant o'er Cashura's grave In the deep forest, by the spring O'er which the dusky hemlocks wave ; Twelve moons have passed, her heart doth yearn To see her kindred — to return — Why not the pale faced Hester go ? — Her lover soon would be a chief Among the warriors ; and the grief SYMPATHY. Ill Which makes her forehead as the snow That gleams on Wampanhegan's peak, When round it winter tempests blow, Ere while would cease to blanch her cheek." The English maiden turned, and pressed Her dusk companion to her breast, And smiling, earnestly replied, " 'Twere baseness not to prize thy will To serve me, good Otraska ; still I may not choose thee for my guide, And leave my father desolate, — Abandoned to his lonely fate ! It haunts me as a deed of fear, The very thought ! And howsoe'er He seem exacting, well I know His sole impulsion is my good ; Oh ! could he but a semblance show Of cause for this imperious mood, It were no task for me, I trow, My own poor humor to forego, And wear the badge of maidenhood 112 HESTER. To suit his pleasure. But the theme Makes me undutiful. Away, Base thoughts ! " And was it not to-day We were to seek Merconnig stream, To try your cunning as a leech On poor lame Natick, at the beach ? Let's to our boat — she'll sadly moan, If we the visit should postpone." The hush of eve again came on ; The friends (who had all day been gone) Returned, were resting at the door Beneath the ample stoop ; and near, Old Carl sat on the passage floor, Amidst a heap of fishing gear At work, while ever and again, He trolled the rollicking refrain Of some old song about the sea, Scarce conscious ; good dame Marjory, Her labors ended for the day, A DOMESTIC SCENE. 113 Had taken her accustomed chair Beside the window ; on the stair With half-shut eyes the stag-hounds lay ; And spinning down the lambent air Its crystal threads, a gentle shower, Delicious with the balmy breath Of spruce, and fern, and fragrant heath, Enhanced the solace of the hour ! Hester aroused at length, addressed The wrapt old man (his roundelay Perchance had on her mind impressed The thought), " Good Carl ! come, put away Thy tackle, and rehearse some mime To us lorn maidens — some conceit Of high emprise, or knightly feat, Or what thou wilt — 'tis just the time For such — some tale of love or crime — Which thou so deftly canst repeat At wont." The wrapt old man's gray eye Grew brighter as he made reply, — 114 HESTER. " Nay ! nay ! No minnesinger's skill To weave the gay romaunt at will, Have I, in sooth — I can but state In simple terms some freak of fate, If aught — and shall be recompensed If I in any wise beguile Attention." Pondering then awhile, He thus a rambling tale commenced : CHAPTER VIII. CAEL HILDEBEAND'S STOEY. My statements, lady, have to do With the adventures of a knight High in King Charles's favor, who, Through all his master's trials true, His sword in many a battle drew, 'Till foiled at last at Wor'ster Fight ; I'll call him Rudolph — haply fame To his brave deeds another name Attached ; but be this as it may, What boots it ? Foiled in that affray Where old Noll's anthem-singing crew So fully, fatally o'erthrew The last hope of the Cavaliers ; 116 HESTER. Thou, lady, wast then few of years, But none of England, young or old, Need of those fearful times be told ! — The battle-hurricane was o'er, Or sinking on the distant plain ; The young chief glanced around once more, He saw that further strife was vain, His last hope quenched in seas of gore, His bravest numbered with the slain, So fierce had sped the woful fight, And naught remained to him but flight ! But first he drew his crimsoned brand : " Thou never hast my trust betrayed," Said he, " and ne'er shall traitor's hand Dishonor thee, my faithful blade !" And broke the steel across his knee, And threw it on the gory lea — Then to his horse — " and now my steed Thy master's life hangs on thy speed ! A worthless life, and yet, may be, THE BANISHED CHIEF. 117 Preserved, it shall not prove in vain !" So ran his brief soliloquy — He gave the charger spur and rein, And faded on the distant plain — Pursuit and clamor far behind, As well pursue the tempest wind ! But though upon the battle field Compelled thus signally to yield — And fly, with foemen night and day On every side, to bar his way, Did that good chieftain falter ? Nay ! That brow so pale, so calm, concealed A soul, to battle cark and care, To bid defiance to despair ! And e'en when 'scaped to foreign soil Thereafter, cramped with poverty, Eating the bread of sweat and toil, While on his broad, rich barony, His conquerors reveled with the spoil, As proud, as clear, his keen eye shone As when he battled for a throne ! 118 HESTER. Still plotted he, and toiled, and planned ! And once more in disguise of port And garb, he trod his native land ; He stood in his own castle court, He saw the banners stream abroad Of strangers on its battlements, The staid fanatics that kept ward, With that stern rigor which relents In naught, on barbican and tower — He marked the strange usurper's power ! And thence the royal camp to win, He turned his course across the wave ; In place of martial strife, and din, And banner flout, and squadron brave, In panoply of war, around His liege's cantonment, he found The prince in lures of pleasaunce drowned — 'Midst masks and mimes — the flattered lord Of heroes of the festive board, With only sneers and gibes for those Who dared in anywise oppose EXILE. 119 His mood. Home, station, seas of gore, All spent for this ! His hope was o'er ! Thenceforth the exiled knight became A wanderer in barbaric lands — The fierce realms of primeval fame — Crossed trackless wastes of desert sands, Scaled mountain steeps, trod arid wolds,* With throbbing blood and weary feet, Where verdure shuns the burning heat, And penetrated to the holds Of savage rule, — vast, crowded marts, Whose aspects, modes of life, strange arts,' Whose yqyj names even are scarce known To records of our tamer zone ! Cross' d continents from sea to sea, And lonely seas from coast to coast, Now from disease and death to flee, Anon as fancy lured him most ; Here making sojourn months to pore, With pagan priest in secret cell, O'er weird rites and forbidden lore ; 120 HESTER. Thence going forth perchance to dwell 'Midst mighty ruins lorn and gray With ages, whose historic day And date were haply lost to man Ere record of our race began ! — Here feted with untold display Of pomp barbaric, and anon Contemned and shunned, and waste and wan With famine. Thus he wandered on, Till on a summer day's decline, While on his way to Palestine (Or otherwhere, as whim or fate Might lead), from Meroe, and the grand Old ruins of that wonder-land Along the Nile, he sought the strand, And entered ancient Cairo's gate — And wending leisurely along The narrow streets, uncertain where To seek for needed rest and fare, He came upon a hurrying throng- That seemed to rivet every eye ; THE ENCOUNTER. 121 He turned aside, uncaring why, When, with a sudden piercing cry, A Jewish girl, robed as a bride, Rushed from the concourse to his side, And wildly importuned his aid ! With speed of thought his trusty blade Was from his belt and ready barred, To shield her from the Turkish guard, Who followed her. " How ! Christian cur ! " Exclaimed the Moslem, blanched with rage, " Darest balk me ? Sheath thy cimeter, Or by my beard ! thy heritage Of life is short ! Delayest thou still ? Darest tamper with the pasha's will ? " — For firm in purpose, not a word The pilgrim deigned, nor muscle stirred — " Then Allah help me ! take the meed, Strange Nazarene, of thy misdeed ! " With that, he hurled his glittering steel Full at the Briton's breast ■ — his zeal Had well nigh cost him dear — the brand 122 HESTER. No whit less promptly flew his hand, And slightly wounded dropped his arm ! — u Go, Moslem ! were I so inclined, Thy life were cheap ; but in my mind There springs no wish to do thee harm ! " So spake our knight — then to his charge, " And we, too, damsel, must away, Or else these hounds thus set at bay Will scarcely leave us long at large ! " " Alas ! " her sorrowing reply, While from her face she raised the vail, And fixed a full, dark, beaming eye (Whose lustrous fervor made him pale With something like a sense of fear) Upon him, " Fly ! and leave me here — instantly ! The pasha's hate Will know no mercy ! — Wo is me ! 'Twere better meet a cruel fate, Than thus endanger such as thee ! " " Nay ! " quoth the Briton, as he threw AN ESCAPE. 123 His pilgrim cloak of sober hue Upon her snowy vestments — " Nay ! Such shrewd exploit would hardly chime With courtesy ; but lead the way — When thou art safe, there will be time For me to think of foes or flight — And trust me but I find some plight To balk this potent Moslem's spite ! " At first sign of a will to brave The mandates of their ruler's slave (Almost unheard of deed of fear, For which death only would atone, And might involve all who were near), The timid populace had flown The streets, and every portal closed, And lattice drawn, — so none opposed Their passage ; and they hurried on, Up, down, athwart. But there was one, An old man in uncouth attire, As fleet of foot — the maiden's sire, — Who had seen all, and who anon 124 HESTER. Their steps arrested, at the port Of a huge Saracenic pile ; They entered on its spacious court — " Here can we safely rest awhile," The old man spake — " and if our guise Is pierced, 'twill be by friendly eyes. 'Tis true, we've little time to lose, But 'twere a caitiff's way to choose A later hour, a calmer mood, To speak our thanks " — " Nay, by the rood 1 " Impulsively the knight demurred, " I'll none of this ! I but beguiled A moment's leisure — ne'er a word ! " The gray-beard would not be deterred — " She is my only daughter — Child ! My Desiree, canst not express A word, a look, of thankfulness To thy preserver ! — thus o'ercome ! — Excess of thanks doth make her dumb, I wonder not. — Our tale's soon told ; The pasha sought her — proffered gold ! THE JEW. 125 I spurned him and his minions — (true, 'Twere virtue to oppress the Jew, And such I am !) — but scarcely spurned Before the myrmidons returned, And tore her shrieking from my breast, When thy arm — but thou know'st the rest. If wealth thou lackest, ample store, Thy coffers shall be running o'er ! To brave upon the public street The pasha's slaves ! Unheard of feat, By Aaron's beard ! And swift and keen Would vengeance follow it, I ween, Should adverse fate — Heaven balk the hour ! — Hereafter place thee in his power ! But now pass out among the throng ; This dervish cloak," — and here he spread His own guise o'er the Briton's head, And in it wrapped his form, " will be — For once thanks to their bigotry ! — Protection from all harm, for thee ; 'Twere braving fortune to prolong Our tarry here. — Meet me again 9 126 HESTEE Beyond the Nile, on Gizeh's plain, Beneath the western pyramid, To-night — soon as the moon is hid ; There is emprise on foot, brave Frank, For such as thee ; and station, rank, Are in my gift ! — No place is here For explanation, were there time ! — Dost thou approve ?" " Impute it crime In me if I fail to appear !" Was the rejoinder. " Then adieu ! Remember — 'mong the date palm trees, When sinks the moon !" enjoined the Jew — " The pyramid of Cephrenes ! — Go now 1" But fails he to comply, Scarce consciously — the full, dark eye Of the Jew's daughter, as a spell Controlled him ! Thrice he turned away, Still at the portal to delay, Ere he pronounced the word, Farewell ! CHAPTER IX. The night had fallen serene and bland, The crescent moon, shorn of her rays, Seemed floating on the violet haze That rose above the desert's sand ; Whilst higher, in a sky as clear As though there were no atmosphere, The earnest stars seemed thronging near, And all adrift — so strangely bright Were the pulsations of their light !— True to his trust, the pilgrim knight Stood in the palm grove, where the Jew Had craved the midnight interview ; But all was still — he was alone Amidst those mountain piles of stone, The pyramids — the mightiest scene 128 HESTER. Of man's power earth hath ever known, Or, happily, shall ever know ; Solemn, mysterious, serene, Among the stars their sharp heights shone, Their bases unknown fathoms low — Defiant of the shocks of Time ; When earth shall meet with overthrow, Then will those monuments sublime ! He lay down in the solitude Upon the sands, with awe imbued — 'Till sleep, long kept at bay, subdued His limbs, but not his spirit quelled ; In broken visions he beheld The kings, the demi-gods of eld, Each issuing from his massy tomb With stately step and brow of gloom ; The mighty pharaohs, — Rameses, Suiphis, Cheops, and Cephrenes, Dark Moeris, Thoph, And Amunoph, Sethos and Soe — and with the rest DUTY INDICATED. 129 That stern priest-king who so oppressed, Moved thereto by their God, the kin Of Joseph, swift to purpose sin ! But haply his abode of years Twice thousands in the immortal spheres, Had taught him 'twas no idle freak For even kings and priests to wreak Their bilious humors on the weak — That love makes stronger ties than fear ! With trailing garments came he near, And pointing eastwise towards the land Of Palestina, muttered low, They still the wine press tread of wo ! The fields are ripe — thrust in thy hand And reap ! and thereat swayed his wand Above the sleeper. At the stroke The Briton suddenly awoke ! Was it a shade that seemed to glide So swift but noiseless from his side, And dimly flit from palm to palm, Or some marauder plotting harm ? 130 HESTER. He grasped his sword, and gazed around ; But nothing stirred. The crescent moon Had sunk, the night had passed its noon An hour or more — where was the Jew ? Had ill befallen him ? was he true ? — Far to the east, the river wound Dim and majestic, but in vain, He scanned the dim-lit, arid plain ; No hurrying pilgrim met his eye, And save, at times, a jackal's cry, Upon the silence broke no sound, Unless it were a single bird Among the palms, — a soft, sad note, That from the blue heavens seemed to float ! It was the same he oft had heard In his far home-land, when a boy, And life was as a round of joy ; Alas ! what marvel that it stirred His thought to sad and bitter strife ? That boyhood's comrades, where were they ? His fond, proud mother ? — passed away ; His brothers ? — fallen in the raele*e THE RANGE OF THOUGHT. 131 Of battle — and his youthful wife, Whose love he valued as his life, Perhaps estranged, himself as dead Accounted — and the throbbing breast Which oft had soothed his weary head, In rapture to another's press'd! Shuddering at such portent, he sank Again upon the arid bank, For once despairing at his fate — Mute, hopeless, homeless, desolate ! Thought! thought! how tortuous, how strange, How wide and wonderful thy range ! A simple bird thus start a train To end in madness of the brain ! But so it is ; a sound — a strain Of long forgotten harmony, A touch, the flavor of a fruit, The lonely ruin, gray and mute, The fragrance of a flower, the bee That bends the clover on the lea, The murmur of a forest-spring, 132 HESTER. A spider's network — anything To which the memory can cling, May prompt to musings to control The deepest mysteries of the soul, And lead to acts to sway the fates Of peoples and of potentates ! But to the lone knight — on the sands He lies, his face plunged in his hands, Silent and motionless as dead, Yet not alone ! With stealthy tread, A file of Moslem guards have crept Towards him, deeming that he slept, And deftly from its scabbard drawn His cimeter ; and now grown brave, They rally him, " Up ! Christian-born ! Ho ! rouse thee from thy sleep ! We crave Thy company — our liege awaits Thy coming at his palace gates, Impatient of an interview ! " But at their touch, at once renerved, The Briton from their grapple swerved, THE CAPTURE. 133 And for his sword-hilt grasped — that gone, What could he single-handed do ? Forth others rushed — a score to one — From 'midst the palms. " Enough ! lead on ! ' 5 He spake, " unless, most thoughtful Turk, It suits thee here to do thy work ! " " Nay, valiant Frank, thy taunts forbear ! 'Twere death to us to harm a hair Of thine — such is the pasha's charge, Else had we left thy sword at large ! " — The aga made no more reply, But hurrying to a ruin nigh At hand, from 'midst a troop of steeds, Chose one with gorgeous trappings clad, As 'twere an emeer's, which they bade Him mount ; and then not swifter speeds The eagle stooping on his prey Down from his eyrie-cliff, than they Across the dusk and broken plain, While mute as death their serried ranks ; 134 HESTER. Nor did they turn, nor tighten rein, Till hard upon the river's banks ; And here, the pasha's gilded barge In wait, at once received their charge, And instantly urged by a score Of brawny Nubians, darted o'er The dark stream, towards the hither shore ; Yet not until his trusty sword Had been into his hands restored ! — Through all these measures not a word Had passed on either hand ! — What next ? The knight, although in sooth perplexed, Asked not ! — Suffice it, ere an hour Of various incident had flown, Mured in the pasha's donjon tower, He trod a dreary cell alone. He glanced abstractedly around ; The vault was large, but illy aired, Or if above, or under ground, He knew not, and but little cared In truth ! — A solitary ]amp THE DUNGEON. 135 Illumed the vapors dim and damp — Which stirred, appeared to writhe and twist In iris hues, a living mist As 'twere — and gave faint light to read The records of full many a deed, Upon the walls, of crime, despair, By other victims written there. But even these tales won little heed ; For overworn, he threw his head At once upon the wretched bed, The only fixture of the cell, And slept, how long he could not tell : When he awoke it was to see A Moslem bending o'er his couch, Whose speech made needless to avouch — If other need were — his degree. " Brave Frank — nay ! start not thus, nor lower Thy brow, I purpose thee no ill ; 'Tis true I have thee in my power, But 'tis that, having learnt thy skill In arms — aside from thy affray 136 HESTER. With my chief aga yesterday — It boots not how ; I might advise With thee, upon a grave emprise ! We need not banter mysteries — hear ! There is a plot to circumvent My rule in Petra and Judea On foot, — 'tis said of wide extent ; So much the better — just so wide Shall be my vengeance satisfied ! So Allah aid ! But to the tale ! Along El Ghor and in the vale Of rugged Mousa camped, a band Of caitiffs, drawn from every clime, And led by foreign chiefs, have planned To seize upon your holy land ! In heedless ease they bide their time For action, — Greek, Jew, Nazarene, Apostates of the Aloween And other desert tribes, a throng 111 armed, but in position strong, Ripe for the sword — fit subjects they A PROPOSAL. 137 To keep my troops in sabre-play ! — The leaders of these paynim ranks Would ape the warfare of the Franks, In plotting this accursed raid — Hence, Christian, have I sought thy aid ; Take thrice a thousand horse, which wait Thy nod, beyond the eastern gate, And while these robbers feel secure From danger nigh, down on them pour, Kesistless as the fatal fire That blazes in the fierce siroc ! Grind them to dust ! rack and consume Their cohorts with an utter doom ! — Let not a soul escape the shock ! Then name what thou wouldst most desire, — Power, wealth, slaves — ay ! e'en though it were The matchless wench thy cimeter But yesterday bore from my hand ; And doth she bide in all my land, I swear it by the sacred shrine Of Mecca, that she shall be thine ! " 138 HESTER. " Pasha ! " at length the knight replied, " For country, home, and fireside, I've plunged into the deadly strife, And often periled limb and life ; Nay, more ! I've laid my lance in rest, And sometimes stemmed the battle tide To aid the wo-worn and oppressed. — But solely not for wealth or fame, Have I defied war's fearful game ; Nor will my Christian creed allow, Barred nothing else, to do so now ! " " Creed ! Briton ! " quoth the Moslem, " creed ! " Blanched with the effort to surmount His passion — " by the holy fount Of Zemzem ! but thou jeer'st indeed ! 'Tis something men profess to heed, When suits their aims ! But, proud knight, spare Thy jests — I pray thee to forbear ! 'Twere well in season yon should learn That chafed my will has little care For what may follow ; ere you spurn BITTER MUSINGS. 139 My proffer, think awhile at least ; Leave creeds to mufti, scribe, and priest, So Allah help thee ! But I fear My own quick humor, and will hence To the divan, that in suspense Awaits me, but will seek you here Again ere day-dawn ! Ponder well ! " And with these words he left the cell, His eye dilating with the ire He strove, but vainly strove to quell — The smothered volcan's seething fire. " Think ! think awhile ! — well, I have thought ! Assist thee to exterminate The brave men whom thy fear and hate Have goaded, till almost distraught, They rush to battle in their might, And shake thy empire ! " mused the knight ; — " To this, perchance, referred the Jew — May Heaven forsake me if I do ! What then ? Rack! torture's vengeful spite ! The doom of death, uncertain, slow, 140 - HE S TEE. The craven gloats o'er ! Be it so ! — By Heaven ! could I but strike a blow For these bold foes, right cheerfully Would my good sword its scabbard flee — Even though the melee laid me low ! ' ? CHAPTER X. Left to himself, the Briton paced With hurried strides his dungeon. Fate Had certes never found him placed Before in quite so dubious strait — On all sides so completely bound With toils. But list ! that stealthy sound, As of approaching feet — a tread So light he scarce knew whence it sped, Or if at all ! He grasped his sword, And with his straining eyes explored The granite walls on every side, As best he might ; but in the gloom His flickering lamp fails to illume, If harm lurked near him, none espied ! 10 142 HESTER. The massive dungeon door, ajar, Oped on a narrow passage way Barred at the end ; at length a ray Of light, scarce brighter than the star Of eve sends from her throne afar, Crept through the opening as astray ! — And can it be he sees aright, A maiden nearing with the light ? He shades his eyes — " That regal plight ! That form — ■ by heavens ! — 'tis De*sire*e ! " He muttered — "or some elf, with eyes As dark and large, and in her guise ! " Then o'er him stole a deathly fear — If the Jew's daughter, how come here ? For him, perchance, the sacrifice ! — But whether mortal maid or elf From fairy realm, she becks him on, ■Springs up the circling stair — is gone — » Ere he can well compose himself To follow ! — Through the narrow vault He gropes his way, but soon at fault, Nor door, nor passage can he find — DELIVERANCE. 143 As in a tomb mured, all is blind ! He turned him slowly to retreat Towards the cell, when from his feet A door swung up, and face to face He with the comely Jewess stood ! — He seized her hand, but changed his mood ; " How Desiree ! in such a place ! " — " Hush ! hush ! " she whispered — " not a word, Or all is lost ! Methought I heard The guard's voice ! " Then, light as a bird, She darted down the pillared aisle, Before them lost in gloom, the while Her finger raised — (whereon a gem, Worthy a prince's diadem, Flashed back her cresset's flickering flame, And made it seem more dull and tame By contrast) — raised as to imply The need of silence — danger nigh ! The knight, in doubt but that he dreamed, So like enchantment all this seemed, 144 HESTEE. Up, down, athwart, still followed on, Through mirrored hall, and wide salon And chamber, whose expansive height, Quaint tracery, and rich emboss, And gilded equipage, the light But faintly showed — up, down, across — And never seemed in doubt his guide. At length they reached a pillared court Or vestibule. She drew aside A hidden wicket in the port, And gratefully inflowed the breeze Of midnight from the garden bowers, Rife with the dewy breath of flowers And odorous shrubs ; and through the trees His eye caught here and there the play Of fountains, many a jet and spray, That changed and flickered in the ray Of the young moon. But not for these Did D£sire*e her flight abate, But on, through winding pathway strove, And blossoming copse, and palmy grove, DELIVERANCE. 145 Until, arriving at a gate That opened on the brimming Nile, She turned, with triumph in her smile, And whispered, " All is safe as planned Thus far ! — a shallop waits well manned Without, to bear thee up the strand To Bissateen, where arms, and steed, And friends await, who little heed El Haroun's frowns ! " Nor will thy flight Hence in the watches of the night Suspicion or pursuit excite ; For often, on some secret charge, At this lone hour the pasha's barge Thus leaves the shore — alas ! 'tis said, At times on mission foul and dread, Whose import some faint, smothered scream. Or vailed corse floating down the stream, Is but too ready to betray Where none dare question ! " But away ! The boat waits ! Yet a moment stay ! 146 HESTEE. My presence here needs be explained ; — Not favor bought by honor stained Leaves me at large. One of our race, A. kinsman true, is high in place, Within the palace walls. In sooth, The earlier portion of my youth Was spent here in his charge ; and when My rescue from El Haroun's men By thee, called forth the despot's spies, Like locust swarms, of every guise, So none might know, or whom to fear, Or whom to trust, they sent me here In secret, to my kinsman's care — The only hope left — to evade The tiger in the tiger's lair ! — Thus far all's well. Had aught betrayed Our stratagem, the fatal hour That saw me in the pasha's power, This trusty friend " (and here she drew A poniard's jeweled hilt to view, From 'neath her vest), " Heaven give me grace! Had saved me from his loathed embrace ! " DELIVERANCE. 147 The knight in admiration wild Was lost — " Strange sire and stranger child ! " He muttered — " such heroic rede To plan, such nerve of steel to do And dare, well may the pasha heed ! " And then, scarce wittingly, he drew Towards his lips her snowy hand — The while the other arm had spanned Her slender form in its embrace — And gazed upon her fair, round face, The which the glances of the moon Invested with a lofty grace, Almost seraphic — certes, boon Bestowed unneeded, for before 'Twas one man might almost adore ! " The boat waits ! " — presently he spake, " But waits for us ! Thou wouldst go back To what ? Dishonor, or the sack, Or bow-string ! — Nay ! nay ! for my sake, Sweet Desiree, if not thine own, Fly hence ! — I will not go alone ! 148 HESTER. It were to me unknightly stain ; " — u Yet it behooves that I remain, Or all is lost ; " was the reply — " Our plans are not complete — but hark ! That shout ! 'tis not the muezzin's cry ! It bodes no good — haste and embark ! " And with an air of quick alarm, Withdrawing gently from his arm, She stood attent, like one some charm Doth fix, then turned and whispered, " Fly ! 'Twere fatal to prolong our talk — Farewell ! " and darted up the walk ; But turned a moment ere from view Her form was hid, and waved her hand In token of a last adieu, And disappeared. The knight awhile Stood gazing up the dusky aisle, Then with a sigh, turned to the strand ; And soon embarked, with muffled oar, Was fast receding from the shore, His inmost heart-springs in a whirl MORALIZING. 149 Of wild commotion — present lot Of peril all unrecked — and not A thought save for the Jewish girl ! Dost think perfection dwells with men ? — Oh, there are fearful moments, when Temptation hath too strong a sway ! When syren-like she lures us on, Till strength and principle are gone ! And darkness seems almost like day ! Not this alone to passion's slave, For often are the good and brave, And strong in purpose, first to yield, And once upon the sinuous track Press madly forward, nor turn back Until too late — their doom is sealed ! Nay, not perfection on the earth, With all its passions, bickerings, dearth Of heart and soul ! We read of saints Sometimes, in priestly homily, Sin-proof, steel-mailed in the restraints 150 HESTER. Of resolution ; if such be, And therefrom heaven is to derive Its shining spirit-tenantry, 'Twill scarcely be a teeming hive — That land of immortality ! 'Tis true, albeit, there may be those Who walk with footing firm and sure, Whatever passion may disclose Its bait, or syren may allure ; But here were reason to suppose They ne'er had passions to repress — Or had destroyed them through excess ! And let the sophist, proudly meek And self-reliant, who is prone O'er follies of the godless weak, Complacently to shrug and groan, And deprecate, but be accursed With the fierce, seething, scorching thirst Of love misplaced, or counted crime ; Or other passion-thrall whose zest Is contraband, and stand the test MORALIZING. 151 Unscathed, and it might be confessed He were a monument sublime Of strength — howe'er, of slight avail To " point the moral " of our tale ! The noblest sometimes fall — they tell That angels pure and lovely fell From heaven ! And all have need to screen Themselves, at times, behind the prayer Of him, the lowly Nazarene, Father, from this temptation spare ! Leave not the unwary to the snare ! — 'Tis circumstance that most controls Careers ! Still there are sterling souls And saintly ! Strong of trust in man, Earth, Heaven — that all things are the plan Of Wisdom, and unswerving tend To some high purpose, glorious end — True in their aims, they self discard, And whatsoe'er they find to do For weal of humankind, pursue With all their might — prince, warrior, bard, 152 HESTER. Priest, statesman, peasant, serf — the few In every station, every sphere Of life, run nobly their career ! — And deem ye not our pilgrim-knight, Though turned aside, abandoned quite ! CHAPTER XI Meanwhile the Briton's shallop speeds Towards the strand at Bissateen, With oar that scarcely stirs the reeds Upon the marge, or breaks the sheen That mantles o'er the brimming tide From the low moon, so deftly plied ; And ere an hour he reached the shore. Here waited his approach a score Of horsemen, who with welcome brief But cordial, hailed him as their chief. Few words sufficed to tell their aim — And scarcely need the record say They were of those who 'gainst the sway Of Haroun planned revolt — the same Whereof some days before the Jew 154 HESTER. Had hinted at. Without ado, The knight was ready to accede To their appeal to take the lead In the emprise. — " To horse ! away ! " At once the order ; and when day Broke o'er the desert with its smile, Long leagues behind them was the Nile — And on the wide and waste expanse Of sand, no object met the glance, Save here and there, a rock, a mound, That rose from out the level sea, In bald, abject sterility ; While silence breathlessly profound Clung to the shriveled sands, and bound In its tense toils the atmosphere, — A silence such as man in fear May show when death is lurking near ; And even the clank and jangle made By the advancing cavalcade, No echo from its haunt betrayed, But made the elemental sleep THE DESERT. 155 By contrast, seem more hushed and deep ! Southward and eastward, on they hied By trails known only to their guide (A chieftain of the Aloween), Where man, it seemed, had rarely been ; But towards decline of day the scene Became more broken — and erewhile They entered on a rough defile, 'Midst beetling precipices, riven, And rent, and torn, in every shape, As if an earthquake once had striven 'Neath their foundations, and agape Had left the mountain's granite heart, And hence the deep and tortuous pass. And not an herb, nor blade of grass, Nor moss, did sign of life impart To the gaunt ledges — while a gale Born out among the crags that scowled Beyond, above, unceasing howled Along its shaggy walls a tale Of desolation, which so dread, 156 HESTER. Made the heart desert. Through the bed Of this deep gorge, with wary tread And slow, the horsemen picked their way — Down, down, 'midst rocks where scarce the day Could look, so cavernous and lone ; And but a narrow strip of sky, Far up the grim gap, caught the eye, In which, as during midnight, shone The stars ! But still they onward strove — And still the more contracted grew The chasm, till wholly from their view The sky was hid, and in the gloom, From side to side, there scarce was room Forward in single line to move ; Yet on they clomb. Once and again, The knight suspicious tightened rein, And felt his sabre ; but the shouts, Prolonged and cheerful, of their guide, To follow on, dispersed his doubts. And then the path became more wide, A MOUNTAIN RAVINE. 157 And faint the upper crags were dyed With sinking day's empurpled beam ; Which, gradually as they advanced, Upon the nearer angles glanced, Till through a craggy arch the gleam Burst full upon their dazzled sight ; And dashing to the front, the knight Could not restrain his wild delight From shouts of rapture at the change Of scene, so total and so strange ! — They stood within a deep ravine, Confined by cliffs on every side, Of dizzy altitude, and dyed With colors rivaling the sheen Of autumn sunset skies — while green, Broad-boughed, and knurled with rampant life, The tamarisk and palm upsprung About their bases, as in strife To climb the mural steeps, and clung To every fissure ; flowering broom, With petals white as winter snow, 11 158 HESTER. And redolent of rare perfume, Disputed daringly below, With the loose rocks for room to grow ! And from a rough, encumbered nook, 'Midst straggling tufts of asphodel, Gushed up a spring, to form a brook, That dancing down the hollow, fell, With tinkle like a silver bell, Into a natural basin — clear As is the desert's atmosphere — Thence through a rent crag found its way Adown a darksome cavity, Where, shattered into diamond spray, Among the rifts and coarse debris, 'Twas lost, no more to come to day ! But that which made the glen's chief charm, Contrasted with the crags around, Was a broad plat of grassy ground Encircled by the brooklet's arm (As lover would embrace his queen), With here and there a stately palm, A MOUNTAIN RAVINE. 159 Upspringing from its emerald green, And wooing to its shade. And here, Secure from even a thought of fear Or harm, a dusky throng (with steed And camel all astroll, to feed At will) were scattered in repose ; But as the knight drew near, arose, And round him with wild welcome pressed, As though he were a looked-for guest. " Here 'tis our wont to hold divan ; " So spake the veteran Aloween, Who o'er the waste their guide had been — " Here fearless we may counsel, plan, Or seek repose, as suits our mind, And none molest ! Not even the wind, Praise Allah ! our retreat can find, Unless it stoops from heaven, whose blue Can scarce be otherwise than true." A slight repast — a half hour given To counsel, and the motley throng, 1G0 HESTER. With nothing bnt the cope of heaven To cover them, reposed among The shrubs and mossy knolls — for there, In that dry clime, the midnight air Distills no pestilential dew. The knight, too, slept, but neither few Nor strange the phantasms of his brain ! Once more he tramped the burning plain — He stemmed the Nile's broad stream — anew In Desiree's behalf he drew His steel — then was the dungeon's guest — Anon that bosom's panting snow, Those full, black eyes, with love aglow, Bent o'er him, and with breath suppressed, Her trembling lips just touched his own — Touched, quick as thought from his unrest To rouse him ! Had the vision flown ? And was it but some elf of night That seemed to glide along the height Above the scattered palms ? Amazed He rubbed his wildered eyes, and gazed A VISION. 161 Again along the shadowy hill, But all was dusk and moveless ! Still He felt in every vein the thrill Of those warm lips ! It scarce could be A dream — so like reality ! — He listened breathless — all around Was slumberous quietude, profound, Save the tired camel's long-drawn sigh, And once, and then again, the cry As of some bird or beast of prey, Chiding the echoes far away ; Not even a watchman moved his spear — With something like a throb of fear, Perplexed, half dubious that he dreamed, He threw himself upon his bed Of moss, and slept till morning's red Along the mountain summits gleamed ! In the wild wady of El Ghor, Already had the blast of war Been blown, and thither to the strife Our cohort by forced marches press ed ; 162 HESTER. And when the knight roused from his rest, He found on all sides movements rife For speedy march. Without delay From him the troop was under way, And passing through the chasm, again Moved eastward o'er the sterile plain. CHAPTER XII. Slight, gentle mistress ! slight, I ween, Thy pleasaunce, were I to recount The features of each arid scene Of their long march o'er rock, and mount, And sandy gulch, where heat or strife Of elements quench every sign Of habitant, or herbal life ; Until at length, at day's decline, Descending through a rugged vale, They stood upon the lonely strand Of the Red Sea — and here a sail In wait, received the Briton's band — The few who met him at the Nile — While, camping in the rough defile, Their comrades tarried for the night, 164 HESTER. Intending with the earliest light To move towards their trysting post By trails which followed up the coast. The bark put off ; dimly and vast The far waves stretched, — away, away, On either hand, dull, sluggish, gray, The sky with leaden mists o'ercast — And not a sail afar or near, Or speck, the lone expanse to cheer — And soon the dun hills in the rear Were lost in night. — On, on she flew, And when the gray of morning grew Again to day, bold Sinai's steep Loomed far beyond the dashing deep Upon the left — its summit vailed In volumed mists and wreathing rack Inwove with lightning shreds, and black As that dread tempest which assailed Its crags, when on its summit lone, The prophet from supernal hands Keceived in charge those leaves of stone THE RED SEA. 165 Engraven with the ten commands ! — Yet strong and fair the wind still blew, And onward in her far career The little speronara flew, Impetuous as the hunted deer — Her cheek pressed to the hissing surge, Which, plunging round her, seemed to urge To madder speed ! it is brave, Is glorious, thus to ride the wave, Where all is spurred to tensest life, And 'twixt the sea and ship seems strife For mastery — when ne'er a need From convoy dull, or thronging sail Around, compels to slacken speed, Or tack and truckle to the gale ! And here the wide sea was their own ! No mart along the rock-bound strand Sent forth its fleets, but all was lone, Coast, mountain, wave — on every hand — Companionless, mysterious, drear, 166 HESTER. As if man had been swept away From earth — or ne'er had been, — and they Were wanderers from some other sphere, Attracted hither to explore Scenes never visited before ! Tims onward hour by hour they dashed, Till, struggling through the rent clouds, flashed Portentously the sun's low rays, Turning the wild and yeasty maze Of waves as 'twere to blood ! Then fell The wind, and silent calm ensued, Save that at times there seemed to swell From the far inland solitude A chime as of some vesper bell ! — Familiar to the Briton's ear It seemed — like that he used to hear From the gray church tower, near the home Of youth ; but convent, church, or chime, Whence those sweet, mournful sounds could come, Existed not in all that clime ! — PRECURSORS OF STORM. 167 At times the bended ear would doubt It heard at all, so wavering, low, And fine-drawn did the sound creep out ; Then it went whirling to and fro, As if borne through the upper air By fitful winds — precisely where, Or up or down, or here or there, The senses were at fault to know. But one there was on board to whom The marvel brought but doubt and gloom — Their pilot-rai's ( a gray-haired sheik) — " Make all things close," he promptly spake, " The kamsin is about to break Upon us ! — it must not surprise Our good bark in her present guise ! " Then paced the deck in thoughtful mood, Murmuring in accents more subdued, " Arrested thus, so near the shore ! — Already closes in the night ! — had the wind held one hour more ! — And see ! Ben Hassan's signal light 168 HESTER. Even now gleams from the ruined tower, As was arranged ! — a single hour Of that good breeze, had been enough To bring us to the inlet, where We had been safe, beneath the bluff; But Allah have us in his care ! " Meanwhile the crew had furled each sail, But not too soon — the burning gale Already held them in duress ! -— Gale ! give the word its utmost stress Of meaning, and 'twill not express The explosion — bursting from the land With searing heat, and blinding sand, And flame, and smoke, and volleying crash Of thunder burst, and lightning flash — That whirled them shivering, torn and rent, Out headlong o'er the hissing tide, They knew not whither, — impotent In aught to help themselves, or guide Their course ! Thereafter what befel THE KAMSIN. 169 The Briton, lie could scarcely tell ; He only knew that 'midst the din Their craft held out awhile to spin Along the goaded waste — then came A shock, a crash, and all was o'er! This he remembered, nothing more. — When he awoke, a burning flame Was on his lips, and bruised and sore, Within an Arab tent he lay ; He would have risen, but the essay , Was futile — yet the stir apprised One who, it seemed, had near his side, Kept watch, in whom he recognized The noble Aloween, their guide Across the desert, and from whom He learnt their bark with half her crew Was whelmed beneath the wave ! " Thou, too,' The old chief spake, " hadst met thy doom, But for a peerless Almeh, who Rushed to the wreck-lined shore, and drew Thy cold corse from the billows' strife ; 170 HESTEE. And by such stress of heavenly art As only Allah could impart, At length hath won thee back to life ! — As only Allah could inspire ! Unless the maiden's charms, indeed, Hath quickened in thy heart the fire Of life again ! And well I rede, Nor marvel much, that this might be, For ne'er did moonshid's tale express Such form of faultless symmetry, Such matchless grace and loveliness ! Brow lucid as the henneh's flower, Eyes dark as those of the gazelle, And lustrous as with passion's spell, And cheek like morning's rosy hour On some tall marble minaret Just blushing — hair whose glossy jet Would make the kohl itself seem pale, With coy love nestled in each curl, And teeth to rival Ormus pearl ! But my poor speech, brave Frank, would fail To paint such houri — thou shouldst see PREMONITION. 171 To know ! Beshrew me ! but 'twas she Methinks — I'm sure 'twas she — who late So nobly braved the pasha's hate, To save thee from a culprit's fate ! " " What ! " quoth the knight, " the Jewish maid ! How could she Haroun's spies evade ? " " The how, 'tis not for such as I To comprehend ; " was the reply, " Unless 'twas by the prophet's aid — Bismillah ! but thus much can tell, While we were camping in the dell, Where thou didst part our company, She with her guard and gray-beard sire Appeared beside our evening fire ! — Hers is the santon's gift to see The wonders of futurity ! And calling me in haste aside, She urged that evil would betide This cruise of thine ; that as a friend Of our great cause I ought to send To thy assistance ! 172 HESTER. " Naught would do But I must, with a chosen few, Our swiftest camels mount, and ride At once — I fain thought to pursue A shade ; but vain did I advise. Good sooth ! the honey of her tongue, As closely to my arm she clung, And poured the lustre of her eyes Into my very soul, had lured My feet away from Paradise, Were I just at its gates, assured Of welcome ! — vain would I gainsay, So mount we did, and night and day, With scarce a halt, urged on afar, Athwart the drear sands of El Tyh, And o'er the dunes of Akabah, Until our weary troop drew nigh The coast, just reached in time to save A few brave comrades from the wave ! " " Good sheik, this is a wondrous tale Of thine ! " exclaimed the knight, his eye AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR. 173 Fixed on the Arab, as 'twould pry Into his heart ; " yet what avail To cavil, with thy presence here In surety thou dost not deceive ! — Was ever heard the like ? Howe'er, 'Twere equal madness to believe As doubt — and deem not I deride Thy honesty, when I beseech, Where bides the Jewess ? " Ere his speech The sheik had framed to meet the doubt, Approaching steps were heard without — The curtain folds were drawn aside, And De"siree stood in the tent, In bearing, form, and feature she, But worn and pale, as if o'erspent With vigil and anxiety (Yet not impaired a single grace) ; But soon this anxious mein gave place To one of thankfulness elate ! — Whence came this change ? Was it the power Of kindliness alone — innate 12 174 HESTER. Ill woman's heart? Why, hour by hour, Thereafter hung she round his bed, With sleepless eye, and noiseless tread, When fitful fever rocked his brain, To fan his brow, and sooth his pain, To wet his lips, and from his sight Debar the desert's cloudless light, Why ready at his slightest sigh To serve him, and with chiding smile, Which in itself could pain beguile, To counsel silence when he fain Would thank her for her kindness — why ? CHAPTER XIII Time pressed the chiefs. A tarry short At ancient Ezion Geber's fort, Now in possession of their friends, And they departed. Northward wends The pass El Ghor, adust and wide And weary, walled on either side With frowning ridges, heavenward thrown, As they had been asunder hurled By fragment of some other world Swung sphereless, glancing 'gainst our own ! And up this wady, once o'erspread By some tremendous river's sweep, Through sands, in which at every tread, Their panting steeds sank fetlock deep, The troops their toilsome route pursue — 176 HESTER. The knight and Absalom the Jew, Apart in converse. "Here of eld The haughty dukes of Edom held Their rule ; " exclaimed the old man — " here They made their dwellings in the rock, And thence came forth in pomp, to mock At Israel ; — where are now their pride And power ? Our prophets prophesied — They set their faces 'gainst Mount Seir, And spake in burning words the will Of Heaven, and Edom fell — a prey Decreed, to every scourge and ill That claims alliance with decay ; Their thronging hosts were swept away, And none thereafter to this day Pass through their land, as was foretold ; Their palaces are desolate, The owl, the vulture, and his mate, And wild beasts of the desert, hold Estate in all their wide domain ! — So may the doom of Heaven disperse INSPIRATION. 177 The cruel tyrants who now curse Mount Zion with their graceless reign ! " f 'Tis fitly said ! " returned the knight ; " A proper prayer ! and to that end, May we soon have a cast to smite The caitiffs ! — but, my noble friend, As to this power of prophecy, Methought that it had ceased to be — Had perished with the seers who penned The holy records, and outside Those records could no more abide ; So saith the Christian's priestly guide, At least ; but late events have shown The future is at times foreknown." " Nor rest such doubts alone with those Who in the Nazarene repose Their confidence," discoursed the Jew. " But is there any matter new Or old with Heaven ? Wouldst gauge the scope Of inspiration ? Wouldst confine 178 HE S TE E. God's will, the never-failing mine Of thought, to character and trope Of written tongues, which year by year Grow in their meaning, shift and vere, Or cease to mean ? Restrict as well Light to the diamond in its cell, Or hold the ocean in the shell That glitters on the shore ! — Be blind To wind, wave, forest, mountain, sky — Bid the strong surges of the mind Roll back, and leave the soul-bed dry As imbricated sands, whereon The facile fingers of the sea Have left in weird chirography A record of its power, and gone Back to the depths — so thou' It succeed In any effort to ignore The thought-waifs drifting from the shore Of the invisible world ! Indeed, There's not a bird, a moth, a flower, The smallest mote of life — or seed, So thou their form and fashion heed, INSPIRATION. 179 But quickeneth in thyself this power Of ingress to the spirit-plain Of cause ! " Returned the other, " Yain Were the attempt, perchance, for me To comprehend such mystery ; And yonder pasha, in his cell, I'll not gainsay, advised me well To leave these things to priest, and scribe, And mufti. Not of those who gibe At holy ministry am I ! " " Nor needst thou gibe ; " the Jew's reply — " Jehovah's ministry includes All people and all things ; all moods, All places, times — and in his sight, All things are in their essence right — He made them ! " — Interfered the knight : " I'll not contend — this may be so ! And yet it scarcely serves to show How one with certainty may know The morrow ! By what mystic cast 180 HESTER. Of mind, for instance, noble Jew, Came it that thou and thine foreknew Our peril from the kamsin's blast ? Not certainly from any phase Indicative of nature's ways ! " " It came from the immortal spheres," Exclaimed the Jew — " e'en as to seers Of old, such inspiration came — Save in degree, the power's the same ! And if thou wouldst this holy fire Of spirit-prescience know, inquire At the soul's portals ! Not as they Who deem that Heaven can but obey Loud-toned behests — but calm, and meek, And patiently, the answer seek ; And though it linger day by day, 'Twill come at length — remote and dim, Perchance, as steals the evening hymn Of bell tones o'er far-reaching plain, From unseen church tower — yet again Distinct, as from the seraphim THE KNIGHT'S COMMAND. 181 The thought were flashed upon the brain ! But only they who check the thrall Of earth wants have this gift sublime, And they each in degree — not all Were prophets in the elder time." In converse thus did they beguile The tedium of the weary way, Till issuing through a rough defile, At day's decline (their second day), The thronging troops about Mount Hor Burst on their view, a strange array As ever champion led to war ! Druse, Turcoman, Jew, Arab, Frank, In separate squadrons stretched afar, Till lost beyond the mountain's flank, Who, as he passed, with loud huzza ! And Allah hu ! — wild cheer on cheer — With flashing sword, and lifted spear, And banner flout, from front to rear, As if all ready for the fight, Hailed as their welcome chief the knight ! 182 HESTER. His proud eye kindled at the sight, And as he spurred from band to band, Reigning his steed with master hand, With wilder fervor were renewed Their greetings, until chasm, redoubt, Crag, glen, and distant solitude Rang and re-echoed to the shout ! — CHAPTER XIV A week had passed, a toilsome week ; Beneath a lofty colonade, In ruined Petra's midnight shade, The knight had thrown him down to seek A moment's slumber (while without, Upon the hills and round about, His troops were scattered) ; but he pressed In vain his lonely couch for rest, For thought was busy ! — From the coast Of Gaza, and from Hebron's side, Approached the foe, a countless host, And now stood ready to abide The gage of battle ; and the morn Would hear the onset's signal horn ! 184 HESTER. God wot ! no gala pageantry. Had been their march, for day and night, On flank and rear, reserve and right, The Briton's nimble cavalry, The desert-born, in clouds had hung, And ever sure to dash among Their squadrons where expected least ! — j A sudden shriek ! a wildering clash Of arms! — and groans! — the lightning's flash ! And gone ! the din, ere fully ceased, Belike renewed ! — And many a feast For vulture and for beast of prey Along their reeking pathway lay ! — And now came the decisive day ! The Briton slept not — and at last He rose and round about him cast. Naught the tranquility alarms ; His guards at hand, slept on their arms, Careless of what might come ; and near, The sentinel leaned on his~spear, A statue motionless and tall NIGHT SCENE IN PETRA. 185 As those which decked the paneled wall — While ruined palace, temple, shrine, From the eternal mountain hewn, In solemn, far extended line, Gleamed in the glances of the moon, Which full-orbed rode the cloudless blue Of heaven. Lured by the matchless view, He strolled forth up the valley's bend, Incautious whitherward might tend His footsteps, and awhile forgot All care — until a faint-heard shot Afar, induced him to ascend The mountain steep, whence he might scan The distant bivouac of the foe ; The ruins of a temple ran Athwart the height, (some mighty plan Of the immortal Long Ago, Ere Edom fell) — plinth, tablet, frieze, And broken shaft. On one of these He sat him down — at hand below, The gorge of Petra, filled with light — 186 HESTER. While stretching northward, to the right, Amidst the shaggy summits twined The flaring central wady — sight Sublime ! — and where its sands combined Their purple with the purple sky, Leagues distant, he could just descry The foe's close columns, spreading wide And black as some vast river's tide, Of lone Brazilian wilds, when spurned By midnight gales. Yet scarce his seat The knight had sought, when stealthy feet Approaching caught his ear — he turned, And De*siree stood at his side, Pale, anxious, tremulous ! He caught Her hand, but let it fall again, As if pierced by some sudden pain ! "Thou here, strange maiden ! art distraught?" At length he spake — " Art mad ? — - methought It settled that thou shouldst remain At Akabah ! " " And so 'twas planned," THE JEWESS. 187 She made reply — " but prison drear It proved, with its wild wastes of sand And sullen waves, and no one near For fellowship ! My kinsman's band, Which thence last evening came to hand, Was escort safe ! — And where but here Does duty call me ? Should I take No interest in the mighty stake Which extirpates a tyrant's force "Pis hoped — and makes my sire a king — And thou — and thou " — " perchance a corse ! " Broke in the knight ; " why hesitate To speak the thought ? And welcome fate Perhaps 'twould be ! " "Oh, wherefore sting Thy friends with such rash bantering ? Why raise such fears ! Oh, if 'twere so ! " Exclaimed she wildly, as his arm She grasped with look of deep alarm, And gazed into his face — " But no ! May heaven forefend ! " — A sudden light 188 HESTER. Flashed on his brain — that look ! that tone ! Once more her hand was clasped, despite Instinctive coyness, in his own ; And in her upturned, pallid brow, Ne'er half so beautiful as now, Prone on his arm, he sought to read A certitude of what indeed He feared to hope as to despair, Feared with no purpose to forbear ! — He gazed till admiration grew To passion fires, which to subdue He strove, till quivered nerve and vein, Nor longer able to restrain The storm, he caught her to his breast As though her strength were naught — and prest His lips to hers — thought, soul, heart, will, Combined in that ecstatic thrill ! " Mine, De'sire'e, mine must thou be ! " He murmured incoherently, " Forever mine ! " In vain the maid A DECLARATION. 189 His burning words sought to evade ; " Nay ! nay ! brave Frank ! " she spake at length. Repulsing him with all her strength — " It cannot be ! Wo will betide This passion sure ! Think of thy bride In thy far home ! — But heaven forefend That my last words should be to chide One who has proved my more than friend, And that when just to risk his life For me and mine in deadly strife ! Yet leave me ! leave me ! " and a tear Stole down her burning cheek — " Oh, why This bitter test ? — then turned to fly — Yet checked the thought in mid career ; And standing for a moment still, As taxing all her strength of will For some strange purpose, with firm tread, Retraced her steps to whence she sped. " I might," she slowly spake, " have doomed To closest mask, the love I feel For thee — might stifle, crush, conceal, 13 190 HESTER. Till life were by its fires consumed — Might ! said I ? Oh, I have repressed The burning secret in my breast, Till it hath robbed me of all rest ! But cannot bear to give thee pain ! Be this of my deep love the test, Sir Rudolph — I accept the stain ! — Thine thou wouldst have me — be it so ! Whate'er thy lot, my love, my truth, Shall transcend that of gentle Ruth — Not only with thee will I go, But if thou scorn'st, I'll not repine ; Thy friends, thy kin, the least — no ! They'd spurn me ! — whosoe'er of thine Would seek my service, shall be mine ! And wheresoe'er thy latest sigh Is heaved, if thou should st wish me nigh, There will I bide, there will I die ! For thee, for thee, be wrong my right, So thou dost will ! — " Now for the fight ! For see, already dawns the light, A BREAK IN THE STORY. 191 And sounds the trumpet call ; and yet I fain would keep thee here — weak heart That mine has grown — but go ! depart! The fearful crisis must be met ! " And with a sudden turn, she drew His lips to hers, as if to set A seal to their betrothal — then, Light as a fawn, sprang down the glen, And instantly was lost to view. Carl Hildebrand at this point rose — The usual hour of their repose Had long since passed ; but 'twas agreed He should the morrow night proceed With the narration to its close. " And how," said he, about to move Towards the door, " dost thou approve, Fair Hester, of my heroine ? " The lady musing shook her head, 192 HESTEK. As with slow emphasis she said, " Good Carl ! would thou hadst with the dead Consigned her, ere this shame and sin Had blighted ! Beautiful, but weak ! — I'd have her pure as virgin snow Just drifted on the topmost peak Of alpine mountains — far above A speck of earth stain, in her love ! Unshaken, whether weal or wo Might follow — firm at- every cost ! — Such my ideal. — Good Carl, no ! Not virtue and not honor lost, However tried and tempest tost ! — I had worshipped at the shrine Of one so noble, so divine, As thou hadst painted, had she proved Immaculate and pure, despite Her own heart, and this recreant knight, With all his passion stress — unmoved ! " " But lady, in that fervid clime, Where woman's love is bought and sold," ORIENTAL CUSTOMS. 193 Said Carl, " 'tis not considered crime To wive with many — paltry gold, Where man doth set his heart, can buy " — " Not love I not love ! " her quick reply, " Thou know'st it not, good Carl — but slaves ! There are no women there ! Such soil Can only blunt, debase, despoil ! — Nor wonder, too, the men are knaves ! " And as to this base Briton, he Not even this custom vile could plead ; A noble stamp of chivalry, God wot ! 'Twere fitting fate indeed, That in the fortunes of the fight, Thou art to paint to-morrow night, Some well-timed sword or shot should speed The caitiff" — " Nay, good lady ! nay ! " Broke in old Carl, his bronzed face pale As with a mortal fear — "I pray Beware ! This is no fancy tale, But " — here he checked himself again, 194 HESTER. And feigned a mood jocose ('twas plain' 'Twas but assumed, a poor disguise), And with forced laughter fled the scene, Ere Hester had from her surprise So far recovered as to press The question, whence this earnestness So sudden ! And what could it mean ? BOOK SECOND CHAPTER I. The light had fled the evening sky- Again — along the ocean's rim, The ghostly twilight, gray and dim, Reached up as peering to make sure Advancement might be made, secure From dreaded Sol's all-piercing eye ! And yet though lustreless the cope Of heaven, a dreamy, roseate glow Lingered on wave, tree, rock, and slope, As of the air, or to the flow Pertaining, of the gentle wind That came with dew-fall ; or some ray — From the bright retinue of Day, Lured by the matchless scene — entwined Among the isles, and left behind — 198 , HESTER. In its last moments self-illumed ! — The island household were once more Assembled at the cottage door, Around old Carl who thus his promised tale resumed. CARL HILDEBRAND'S STORY— COMPLETED. The light adown the curtained east Of which the Jewess spake, increased To day, and far along the groove Of the broad wady, close and dun, The foe's vast squares were on the move — Their weapons in the rising sun Swept as by flames, as hence and yon They wheeled, came into line, deployed, In splendid pageant, to avoid Or mountain spur, or parapet, Or the wild horsemen who beset Their march from every nook and pass — THE APPROACHING ARMY. 199 Until at length the dusky mass Grew into well defined platoons And squadrons — lancers gay, whose spears Flickered like bird flights, deep formed scores Of haughty mamelukes and Moors, Gleaming with gold ; and staid dragoons From Crotia's northern hills, allied With spahees fierce, and fusileers From Dakel, and the regions far Of sultry Meroe and Sennaar, Wide sweeping onward, as careers Some alpine river's surging tide, Burst from its barriers — serried ranks Of rude adventurers, Greeks and Franks, And dark embattled cannoniers, With their huge enginery of death Plunging along the sand drifts slow And dread, the adjutants the while, And agas, dashing to and fro, And up and down the broad defile, On foaming steeds ; and in morn's breath, Banner and pennon fluttering free 200 HESTEB. And far, and all the tinselry And show attaching to the plight Of warfare, shimmering in the light — Ay, lady ! never mortal e'en, I trow, regarded braver scene ! Nor deem ye on the Briton's side That aught was wanting to abide The onset. Batteries, light 'tis true (These only through vast toil obtained, By the indomitable Jew), At points most sheltered had been trained To sweep the pass ; and ambuscade, And deadly mine, Where'er their line Of march exposed the foe, were laid ; And every shelf that could command The open wady, every slope And chasm, where the assailed might hope Successfully with odds to cope, Or with advantage might withstand The battle's rush, teemed with its band BATTLE ARRAY. 201 Eager for battle. Yet o'er hill And valley, all was steadfast, still ! So quiet that the little rill Which, 'midst the oleanders, wound About the rocky parapet Where Eudolph and the chiefs were met To scan the foe, sent forth a sound That startled with its restless fret, As ominous ! And save when gleamed Some weapon flashing in the day, Or some impatient charger's neigh Destroyed the spell, ye might have deemed The post abandoned ! Onward drave The foe's battalions — wave on wave Of serried scarlet, green, and gold, Right onward ; and before them rolled The Briton's outposts, as debris Is whirled before the toppling sea That seeks the shore ! while beckoning sword, And trumpet call, and eager word 202 HESTER. And cheer, from every quarter stirred The farthest ranks to ecstasy Of burning courage ! On they came Resistless — full a league of horse And foot, resplendent with emboss, And banner flout, and plumage toss I When suddenly a blast of flame From hidden battery and mine, Blazed on their close, extended line! Down sweeping scores — crest, pennon, lance, In heaps confused ! and chargers reeled, Or riderless dashed o'er the field; And agas rushed to the advance ! Again the shivering thunders pealed ! And furrows gaped adown the square, As ploughed by some tremendous share ! Yet but a moment did the stun Balk their array — they wheel and pour Upon the muniment, whose roar Gives place to clash of swords and spears, And struggling groups, and groans and cheers, While down the rugged mountain run THE BATTLE. 203 At hand, sweep fresh ranks to support Their hard-pressed comrades in the fort, And thrice the point is lost and won, Ere had as many minutes flown ; But still they strive ! Yet not alone At this point is the fight begun ! Far to the right the thunder tone Of cannon wakes, and sweeps the tide Of battle up the mountain side, To be hurled backwards, as the surge That 'gainst the rock-ribbed shore would urge Its fury ! — in the searing blaze, Eider and horse, and battery train, And broken square, and shattered wain Commingled in wide, wildered maze ! But 'tis to Haroun's bristling front, His main reliance for success, That we must turn to find the brunt Of battle ! Onward still they twine, Regardless of exploding mine, 204 EESTEB And volleying shot that right and left Have rained from ridge, ravine, and cleft, Unswerving onward — numberless As locust swarms ! And now they press, With headlong rush and eager shout, The passes where commands the knight In person — and along redoubt And mound, thrown up on every heigh t 3 The flaming batteries' thunders wake, Returned by the exultant foe In shot for shot, and blow for blow, Until beneath the boom and din Of falconet and culverin, The very mountains seem to shake ! — Still through the vortex on they keep Their steady march, with dripping blade And flaming carbine — now betrayed In some unlooked-for enfilade To raking battery's tempest sweep Anon advantaged. Checked, convulsed, Borne forward, swerving, stayed, repulsed - THE BATTLE. 205 At length they gain a sheltered bridge Of rock (upheaved from hill to hill, The work of Nature's wondrous skill), Where under cover of a ridge Of their own dead, with dauntless nerve, Screened from the raking battery's sweep, They battle those who guard the way ; And possibly had won the day But for the Briton's strong reserve, Which now pours down the neighboring steep ! 'Twere worse than madness to abide The rush of that o'erwhelming tide ! ■ — They turn, but in retreat disdain To hasten, though a hurricane Of plunging missiles, belched from scores Of brazen tubes, and leaden rain From thrice a thousand fusils, roars Adown the narrow valley's bend, Full on their reeling ranks, to rend, Detach, wreck — whirl to heaps, like grain Upon some Carolinian plain, 14 206 HESTER. Grasped by the whirlwinds, when come on The summer tempests. But anon The ascending smoky volumes soar Above the cliffs, and floating lie From hill to hill, 'twixt earth and sky (That sky, so mild, so blue, serene And holy), shutting out the scene From view, as Heaven would thus ignore The fearful feud ! — and cannon peal And stench of sulphur, sweat, and gore, And scorching flesh, alone reveal The work their murky folds conceal ! And where, while these events transpire, Bides the fair Jewess ? — With her sire And dusky handmaid, and a band Of warriors posted near at hand To guard them — and an Arab steed (Sleek coursers of the desert stock) For each, in case there should be need, THE BATTLE. 207 She had beheld the wildering shock Of battle, from a steep ravine High up the hills — the headlong rush, The sweeping lines, the torrent gush And turmoil of the fearful scene Full on her view — one thought intense Enchaining every look and sense ! That thought, 'twere little need to tell, Referred to him now dear as life, How fared he in the fearful strife ? — With jewel-studded petronel And yataghan of Persia, bound In the green mantle flung around Her waist, her taper fingers wound Among hef courser's mane — while streamed Her own dark locks 'scaped from bandeau And fillet, o'er her bosom's snow, And draped her lifted arm — she seemed But as a statue ! Well for her, The gentle creature, trained to obey 208 HESTER. Her slightest glance, forbore to stir — Forbore, yet oft his whinnying neigh And longing eye towards her turned, Told how his eager spirit yearned To mingle in the far affray ! Her white-haired parent stood aloof Some paces, rigid as the stone 'Gainst which he leaned — save when his roan, Pawing the earth with scornful hoof, Disturbed his mood — his snowy beard Pressed to his bosom, while his sight Was turned away, as if he feared To watch the fortunes of the fight, Lest haply evil might betide His friends the while ; — and at her t side A santon of the desert bowed His forehead to the ground in prayer. Erewhile the battle's turbid cloud Came wavering up the lambent air, Athwart the scene, concealing all Beneath its fetid, sombre pall ! THE BATTLE. 209 " What sayest thou, santon, art impressed ? " At length she dubiously addressed The holy man — " how goes the fight ? How fares it with the leader-knight, And his ? — gracious Heaven, arrest The fatal ball and thrusting steel ! " She cried, scarce conscious what she said — " hear a sinful girl's appeal, Nor with the smitten or the dead Let him be numbered. " Then again She grasped her courser's silken rein, And downwards gazed, as if she fain Would leap the dizzy chasm, and spur Into the unseen melee's whir, While every muscle, every vein Of her excited steed would swell And tremble, as with head on high, And arching neck, and liquid eye, He felt, or seemed to feel, the spell That had come o'er her spirit ! Then Again she turned away, and sank 210 HESTER. With trembling limbs against the bank, Among the oleanders rank, That flooded with their bloom the glen, In agony of hopeless dread ; And with her eyes hid in her palm, So rigid sat, so mute and calm, Ye might have deemed her spirit fled ! At times the sluggish clouds withdrew ; — When opened far upon their view Brief glimpses of the surging sea Of passion-thralled humanity ! — Here circling, as the maelstrom sweeps, Towards some knoll or vantage ground, Rank jostling rank, and pellmell wound Together in the billowy race ; There reeling from the mountain's base — Dark hosts — whence all unlooked-for leaps Some battery's flame ; again in heaps Piled round some banner, which, though oft Swayed to and fro, and hard beset From every point, still flies aloft ! THE BATTLE. 211 Here in unyielding struggle met — Staggering and toppling, friend and foe So intermixed they scarce can know Where to expect or aim a blow ; There pressed, some stalwart column's wreck, Against the precipice's wall, And keeping desperate odds in check ; Yon mustering at the bugle's call, Disparted squadrons to renew The charge, the many 'gainst the few ; Or forced on some entrenchment's fire, Powerless to advance as to retire, And melting file by file away ! — Thus ever changing in array, Speed on the fortunes of the day ! — And wide o'er all the field are strown, The battle's wrecks, — the dead, the maimed And dying — tumbril overthrown And shattered — culverin which flamed No longer, wheel-less, or impent In drifts and fosses of the slain — 212 HESTER. Banners half poised, and soiled, and rent — Slow smoldering ambulance and wain — And matchlocks, spears, and lances sprent 'Midst mangled horsemen, foot, and steeds, Thick as the jungle's broken reeds By Irrawaddy, when has passed The typhoon's scourge ! And here and there, Where strife has ceased, and where are massed The battle's wrecks most dense, the steam Of ebbing life, and thickening gore, And sweat of agonized despair, Ascending slowly up the air, As sluggish mists that crinkle o'er The surface of some still, deep stream, In cool autumnal morning's beam ! lady ! ye may well opine That tongue of glibest clerk would fail To paint the scene — to tell the tale, Much less such homely speech as mine ! Thus hour by hour of torture wore Away, and still the battle's roar THE BATTLE. 213 Continued — but portent of fear ! At length it plainly drew more near — When suddenly, begrimed and soiled, The knight came staggering up the dell — " All's lost ! in victory's moment foiled " He gasped — "by traitors ! — mount ! retreat Ere 'tis too late ! — haste ! haste ! " and fell Expiring at the old Jew's feet ! "No ! by the sword of Gideon ! no ! " Exclaimed the old man, while a glow Of energy, inspired, sublime, Ennerved him — " not till one more blow Is given ! Ho, guards ! now is our time ! To horse ! from every scabbard leap Its thirsty steel, And on them wheel Resistless as the lightning sped From heaven! To horse ! " And scarce was said The mandate, ere adown the steep, With echoing cheers, and flashing blade, Full on the foe's exultant troops 214 HESTER. They broke, in compact front — asmoops The eagle on his prey, as falls The snow bolt from the blue, calm halls Of alp-supported skies ! Dismayed, The advancing squadrons waver, shrink, Bear back o'er precipice's brink, And broken ridge, and scattered rock, Ere they could raise one answering shout, — Horsemen and horse, in mingled rout Down toppling, shattered ! — What avail That I should longer eke the tale, My mistress ? Never yet was shock More timely, signal — ne'er defeat More overwhelming and complete ! CHAPTER II. Soon had the uproar of the fight Swept by, and on the mountain cleft The Jewess and her maid were left Alone, beside the bleeding knight ! The silence of the desert, mute And motionless, o'er hill and vale, » Resumed its reign ; save when the gale In passing brought the far, faint wail Of dying myriads to their ears, Or more remote the shouts and cheers Of those who in the hot pursuit Still followed. From his hiding place Among the dwarf acacias, stole The amazed gazelle, with timid pace, 216 HESTER. And ears raised ; and from gulch and knoll, Where the thick fiery poppies glowed Like living coals, the partridge strode, And gazed around, and stretched his wing And faintly clucked, as wondering What all this pother could imply ; While from the blue depths of the sky, The thronging vultures, train on train, Drop down, unseen before, and spin Their slow gyrations o'er the slain And dying, eager to begin Their ghastly banquet — every round Descending nearer to the ground. But, little heed paid D^sirde To these things, while the Briton lay Before her with the mists of death Fast gathering in his eyes — his breath So faint, that when she tore away His vesture, and down stooping, pressed Her ear against his manly chest, The stagnant silence of his heart life's questionings. 217 Smote hers as with a mortal chill ! But what is life ? — Can man by will Of his own to his frere impart ? — I fain believe it ! — Nay ! why start So strangely, lady ? — Or, the same Are life, soul, spirit ? Whereof came The subtle essence ? Man awaits An answer — through the ages long Has waited, patient, swerveless, strong Of purpose — pressing at the gates Of that eternal bourne, where He Who only can reply, abides, And 'neath its shadowy ramparts, hides His purposes of mystery ! Life ! who may track it when are spent Its fires ? And is it then a force No more ? or are its forces blent With some wide realm of such, the source Whence all life comes ? It was, is not — The thing it moved lies still and stark ! None saw, felt, heard it pass — none wot 218 HESTER. The moment when it left its ark Of matchless beauty, or the where It bides ! It was — it is not there ! Is all we know ! Why then define Its powers, conditions — or assign Its bounds ? Know, lady, at the least, 'Tis nowise rare for Moslem priest And warrior santon of the East — In occult art from all time versed — To stay its issues, now as erst, By power of faith ! This well I know, Else have my senses often scanned To little purpose. Hand in hand, The strong may of his strength bestow Upon the weak ; nay more ! by will Alone, unaided, thus lure back The flown life to its wonted track, Along the pulses ! Wherefore nill ? If in the mystic Long Ago, Why not at present ? But the hour THE WOUNDED KNIGHT. 219 Is near at hand when all this power Will ken ! And well the Jewess knew Its potency, and softly drew His hand in hers, and smoothed his brow And temples, whereon even now Death's dew was gathering fast. At length He feels her vitalizing strength, And oped his eyes, and wildly gazed Around, bewildered and amazed ! A few words set his mind aright As to the issue of the fight ; And then in strips the maiden tore The linen vesture which she wore Beneath her caftan, and applied Its cool lint to his bleeding side And chest, with skill that never leech Bred in the schools, surpassed ; and bound "With such few simples as in reach Upon the neighboring rocks were found, Therewith his hurts — then plucked and spread The wild oat and the feathery broom, 220 HESTER. And sleepy poppy's wealth of bloom, In the rock's shadow for a bed, Whereon, assisted by her maid With gentlest care, his limbs she laid, And pillowing in her lap his head, With upturned, pallid face, she prayed That Heavenly Love would interfere And wrest from Death his lifted spear ; And ere that whispered, earnest prayer Had ceased to charm the listening air, Upon his lids soft slumber fell — And for the moment, all was well ! CHAPTEE III How often hath the best formed plan Been balked by cause most trivial ! Man Will risk life, health, hope, heaven, indeed The last to risk — religious creed, Upon some favorite issue — strain His every energy to gain The wished-for boon — besiege, invade, Sack, burn, sink countless treasure, wade Through seas of blood ! and when is won At last, the longed-for rubicon, Will stake the dearly-purchased prize Upon some " trifle light as air " ! Alas ! that e'er I should declare Such shabby fate to an emprise Begun with auguries so fair 15 222 HESTER. As this, the Jew's attempt to free His father-land from tyranny — Begun with such decisive blow ; Yet, lady ! it was even so ! It little boots that I relate The sad details ! how jealousy Of precedence grew into hate Among the chiefs ; how bigotry Of diverse faiths, foremost to fill The world with war, blood — every ill, From all time, meekly crept among The tents, and lapped with slimy tongue The crumbs of discord that were flung Toward its eager maw, till fed To full, it reared its hydra head, And spewed the venom of its spite On every hand (the while the knight, Who solely had the power to stay These fierce dissensions, helpless lay Upon his bed of pain) — till they, Who at the war's inception burned MUTINY. 223 As one, to smite the tyrant, turned Their swords upon each other's ranks ; And thus their strength was thrown away — And then chief after chief withdrew His force, till but a faithful few Of stalwart Israelites and Franks Clung to the standard of the Jew. Nor was the wary spoiler slow To take advantage of these ills. At first upon the distant hills The shattered remnants of the foe Began to show themselves ; then grown More bold, and in their strength increased, They pushed their lines into a zone Of posts about the little force Still left the Briton, and ne'er ceased To smite and harry, till retreat Remained him as his last recourse ! — Flight, or remediless defeat ! He fled ! What needs that I should trace 224 HESTER. The wanderers, as from place to place They hied them — or as prudence urged, Or lurking spies, where none their flight Dared follow ? — oft at dead of night, O'er sunken glen and craggy height, The starry lamps their only guide ; Or on the desert's trackless wide, By day, when in wild billows surged The sands before the dread simoom, And swept athwart the heavens like brume Driven landward from the storm-scourged sea ; Or when more dreaded than the stun Of desert blast, the round, red sun, High in the blue immensity, Shot down his stinging spears of flame, To sear their sight, and scath, and maim, Till life seemed scarcely worth the game Of striving for ! Let it suffice That after weary months of toil, And desert wandering, and disguise, And frequent, far detours to foil * JEWS OF DAMASCUS. 225 The pasha's omnipresent spies, Grown desperate, they boldly passed The thronged gates of Damascus ! Here Among the friendly Jews, at last, They found unstinted aid and cheer. Much is the faithful Israelite By haughty Turk scorned and despised ; In sooth, the only merit prized In Abraham's seed by Moslem wight, Is what his coffers can supply! Hence closely from the public eye The Jew hides that which tempts the greed Of those in power ; and passing through His quarter, nothing meets the view But signs of penury and need ; Huge old serais, with ruined wings, Fallen arch and gateway, o'er which clings Rank, scandent verdure ; dingy walls And domes of uncouth masonry, v Reared from the relics and debris Of nobler works ; quaint-fashioned stalls 226 HESTER. And booths, and cavernous bazaars, Blackened and gashed with seams and scars Of age, and storm, and brunt of wars ; — But oft within are sumptuous halls, Bedight with every garniture And gild of ornament that art And wealth of fancy can impart, Or untold opulence procure ! And here the Israelite grandees, Secure from prying eyes, dispense Their hospitalities, with ease And measure of munificence That even the king upon his throne In state, might well be proud to own ! And one of these received in care The Briton and his friend the Jew And daughter — need I say to fare Most royally ? But why pursue These minor matters till I fret Your patience ? Yet I needs must say THE BRIDAL. 227 That ere the month had passed away, Beneath his princely roof were met A bridal party, and despite All opposition, Desiree Became the wedded wife, or mate, Or what you will — I but relate The story, lady — of the knight ! Here Hester interfered, — " But why, Good Carl, give to thy tale such turn ? Why not have made the Jewess spurn The shame ? or let thy hero die Away there on the broomy bank, When, come up from the fight, he sank So helpless ? or to spies betrayed The wanderers on the desert ? — made To any mold their fortunes, save Of her the willing victim — bride I cannot call her — him the knave, The villain, the betraying guide ? " — " Nay, lady ! as thou wilt, deride ! " Said Carl — " I speak of what has been, 228 HESTER. I picture countries I have seen ! " " And how, the while, behaved her kin, Good Carl ? " said Hester ; " By my life ! " Responded he, " they did make strife At first, but finally gave in ; Not that the honors of a wife Were not conferred, so much at least As that their faiths in different mold Were cast — the customs of the East Bar not such nuptials manifold, 'Mongst high and low — although, 'tis true Such use obtains not with the Jew As custom. — Then, the knight was bold In his advances, and had fame — A mighty advocate — and came Of gentle blood as that which stains Thy cheek, or throbs in thine own veins, My lady ! " — " What, Carl ! this from thee ! ' Cried Hester, as impatiently She started up, while glowed her cheek HESTER DISCONCERTED. 229 With deepest crimson, " What strange freak, Good Carl, induces thee to speak As every word thou utterest rose From fact ? and spur me to suppose That somehow my own destiny Is mixed up in this wondrous tale ! — I pray forbear ! it startles me ! " "Your pardon, lady, if I fail In aught respectful — or ignore My place," said he with lowly mein And saddened — " as I said before, I speak the like of what has been, And picture countries I have seen ! " — " But not that this concerns me sure ? " Broke in his auditor once more. The old man turned his head aside, As from her prying eyes to hide His sallow features ; and there came A shudder o'er his iron frame, As if some long-forgotten pang Had supervened ; and Hester sprang 230 HESTER. Towards him — " Pardon me, my friend !" She fondly urged, and took his hand — " Carl ! not for all the golden sand Of famed Pactolus, would I hurt Thy feelings ; 'tis my wont to blurt My humor thus — not to offend, Believe me ! — pray go on and tell Thy story through ! It hath a spell, A charm I cannot comprehend ! " The old man stammered — 'Twas a freak Un thought — he meant — would try to shun The like in future — ( but why seek To give an import where was none ? ) In short, he seemed, at each turn, doomed To render matters more adverse, Till with forced smile, and mumbled curse Upon his stray wits ! he resumed : Well, lady ! and no ill betide Their lot from adverse circumstance, In that sweet clime of love, romance, DAMASCUS — ITSFAME. 231 And flowers, almost of needs, must glide Their life with smoothest flow along ! — Damascus ! famed in loftiest song And story — what a tingling zest Of romance, even to the name Pertains ! How deeply are impressed The wonders of its wealth, its fame. Upon the Past ! The heritage And home in turn, of saint and sage, Of poesy, art, letters, law — The stake for which in every age Tyrants have played the game of war — Jew, Babylonian, Persian, Mede, Turk, Tartar, Christian — as their greed Of power impelled — to every crown A priceless jewel ! Mighty town ! Where is the record, where the tongue That hath not told of its renown ? Projected when the world was young, Gorgeous, decayed, remodelled, hurled To dust and ashes, it hath stood In some sort, where to-day it stands, 232 HESTER. From time coeval with the flood, The pride of oriental lands, The garden of the teeming world ! Delicious clime ! its proverbs say Three things can charm dull care away — Three — water, verdure, and the grace That sparkles in a lovely face ! These can it boast ! Its Barrada With all its wandering wealth of streams, And ever green and blossoming bowers, Where the voluptuous Moslem dreams Entranced, away the balmy hours, And blesses Allah that his birth Was here vouchsafed of all the earth — Where o'er the wide, wide world are seen Such crystal waves, such banks of green ? Strange waters ! in their wild ravine Pulsating from the great earth's heart, As 'twere her life fount, they depart As strangely in that weird, wide lake, Away out in the desert there, DAMASCUS — ITS SCENERY. 233 Crouched in the stifled, pulseless air, Wherein the summer sun doth slake His thirst, till from its sandy brink And confines, they retire and shrink, Approachless, and upon the gaze Ascending far, a living haze, An atmosphere of purple life, Shimmer and dance in filmy strife, Commingled with his searing rays ! But, lady, mount with me the height Of Salahiyeh, wouldst thou bless Thy vision with the dazzling sight, In all its vivid copiousness ! Behind us are the stern, dark crags Of Anti-Libanus, where lags The morning cloud ; or dull and slow (Its trailing fringes torn to rags By bristling ridge and splinter), drags Its gloom athwart the glens below, Whence from its prison house doth flow The roaring Pharpar ; far away 234 HESTER. Southward, and bounding the array Of frowning steeps that keep at bay The sand-wash of the desert, high O'er all the rest, the snowy head Of Hermon slumbers in the sky In solemn calm ; while on the left, Bidge reels on ridge, and cleft on cleft, Diminishing upon the eye, Till their empurpled forms are wed With the red desert-waves, which crawl Prone 'neath the sunbeam as in dread, Still onward to the horizon wall ! And wide before us is the sheen Of groves (save where the city rears Its snowy domes and towers between, Or the broad river interferes), A wilderness of living green — By contrast with the yellow rim Of the far sands, and mountains dim And blue that 'gainst the sky careen Away beyond — become intense DAMASCUS ITS SCENERY. 235 Almost to ebon gloss — its charms Outbur sting from the Pharpar's arms In hoydenish luxuriance, With plethora of leaves and bloom, And fruit, and tangle, and perfume, Such as the wave-bound Antilles And palmy shores of torrid seas Can only match ! But plunge we now Beneath those dreamy vaults of shade ! — What swaths of blossoms on each bough ! How hardly can the winds invade Those dim-lit aisles of leaves and dew ! In what strange phase of form and hue, The flowers and bloom attract the view Where'er we turn, through grove and glade, By fount and stream ! What wondrous sphere Of fragrance hath its queenly rose Flushed with full bloom, (so prized where'er The gentle charms of flowers dispose Mankind to goodness !) — How replete With witching melody the song 236 HESTER. Of the weird bulbul, as among The deep shades of his green retreat In the thick olives, which the light Of noon can scarcely penetrate, Seeming to fancy day is night, He warbles to his sitting mate ! And when the time of harvest comes, . How droop the golden sheaves to feel The hungry sickle's edge — how reel The groaning orchards 'neath their domes Of fruit, the lush peach, apricot, Date, prune, fig, olive — and what not Of oriental fruitage ! how Upon the hills, in every nook And glen, the o'erloaded vine doth bow Whate'er it clings to, with its store, Rich as the clusters which of yore The spies sent into Canaan bore Away from Eshcol's teeming brook ! But quoth the eastern sage, what worth DAMASCUS ITS WOMEN. 237 Were even a paradise on earth, Without the presence and the smile Of woman's beauty to beguile The heart when discontents obtrude — What better than a solitude ? — And hath not the unrivaled claim To beauty, of Damascene dame, For ages been the inspiring theme Of moonshid's tale and poet's dream ? Such madrigals, such stanzas rare And dulcet, to complexion, hair, Lips, eyes — but lady ! I forbear The glowing thought ! — yet needs must say, If verdure, water, and the grace Pertaining to a lovely face And form, can keep at bay dull care, As eastern proverb would declare, A happy generation they Who dwell beside the Barrada ! And in this soft Acadian clime — Exposed no longer, for a time 16 2S8 HE 8T E K. At least, to fortune's adverse freaks, On downy pinions sped the weeks And months, with Rudolph and his bride — And ere the rapid year had flown, She knew the happiness and pride To youthful mothers only known When in their trembling arms they clasp Their first-born ! — Not beyond the grasp, Were they, howe'er, of evil fate'; Yague rumors often reached their ears That Haroun's spies were still elate — Their Israelitish friends had fears ; And by-and-by 'twas counted meet That they should seek some close retreat Awhile, until the atmosphere That marked their horoscope was clear ! CHAPTER IV. Malfortunes, lady ! it is said, Like Arab steeds, are swift of pace, And often by each other led, And so 'twas in the present case ; The old Jew sickened ; worn with care And disappointment, and despair Of ever raising more to power The Jewish throne — his dying hour Drew near. 'Twas on a night of gloom And tempest, in a gray old tower, The remnant of a once proud fane, Left standing from the general doom, What time the ruthless Tamerlane Swept Syria with his demon horde 240 HESTER. Of horse, and gave to fire and sword The city and its countless souls — The noon of night ! The simoom roared About the buttresses and knolls Of the old pile, and far and shrill Went wailing over roof and hill, As if a host of wandering gholes Were on their rounds in quest of prey ; And by his pallet Desiree And Rudolph, and a sorrowing few Of those in whom the aged Jew Had most confided, stood — deep awe Revealed in every face, as once And then again, some searching flaw Whooped by, and fanned to brighter light The glimmer of the brazen sconce Depending from the ceiling's height. The dying patriarch's eyes were closed ; And those around in converse low And sad, surmising he reposed, Spake bitterly that he must go, THE JEWS LAST HOURS. 241 So long their highest hope ; that wo, And tyranny, and wrong should be So potent ; of the mystery Of evil — " How ! wouldst ask " — quoth he, Arousing, u whence doth come abuse ? Wherein has mystery a use ? Man's only an explorer, and The boon most prized is hardest won ; Had he no evils to withstand, No mysteries to lure him on, Stagnation would ensue ! Ay ! crime And wrong, — all evils — are but seeds Of undeveloped acts and deeds Of progress ! Nor comes this of time Alone, of earth-life and its scenes ; Experiences will be the means Of progress in the far career Of the hereafter, even as here ! " We live to search the realms of fate ; There is no end, no ultimate, 242 HESTER. But that which is with God innate ! To do, to dare, and to endure Is ours, and well ! By fire the ore Is purged from dross — 'tis Nature's law ; And none e'er have or can withdraw From its control ! And what has been Of trial, and of sorrow keen, And pain, to man, must be again, And o'er and o'er, ere he attain The glory of that height serene To which his inmost doth aspire ! — The tyrant's steel, the bigot's fire, Have yet their work to do ; and still Has Fear a mission to fulfill, And priestly sophistry ; and pride Of power, still dragging in the dust Man's birthright — every crime and lust That have, for ages, Heaven defied ! But though around we thus behold But despots, bigots, cowards, slaves, Dust, desert, ashes, ruins, graves, the jew's last hours. 243 Wherein the By-gone' s fate is told, So sure as Heaven rules earth, the right Is, and it will in time assume Domain ! Already is the light, That faintly streaks the mists and brume Which lower before us, of the morn To come prophetic ! — Man was born For a discoverer ! — his field Of search the boundless unrevealed. At first the few, the hope forlorn, Go forward and erect their posts, To be met by the jealous hosts Of the crude Past, and held at bay, Or overcome and swept away ; Yet other squadrons of the true And brave press on, and claim anew Their stand-points, and repeat the affray And sacrifice — thrice, ten times, yea A thousand times, and there be need ! And when at length, perchance, success Doth crown their efforts (for succeed 244 HESTEK. They will at last), close on their lead The great array of mankind press. And occupy the vantage ground ; And send still other pioneers On through the lonely wastes to sound, Wherever surly error rears Its sky-capped towers, their bold demand For entrance ! The devoted band Is never wanting, to withstand An onset, or to storm a sconce Or battlement ! Such the routine Of progress, — such has ever been ! And where progression's banner once Is planted, there on high it flies Forever, gleaming o'er the sky, A meteor to the upturned eyes Of eager hosts who thunder by To new researches or affray ; And once subdued, subdued for aye ! Whatever bars the dubious way As they press forward, in the rear the jew's last hours. 245 All is secure, there 's naught to fear ! "The day will come ! — Strange things invest My dying couch — I stand alone, Or seem to stand, upon the crest Of towers which were long since impressed Upon the ages, huge, sublime — Night lowers above, and round me moan The winds of desolation ! Time, Past — future — and the way of man Athwart the weary waste I scan On either hand. Begioomed and drear Sweeps the far desert in the rear, With here and there the dim-seen ghost Of some old landmark, crumbling wall And wing, or long-deserted post, Awry, or leaning to its fall — Receding still upon my sight, Till all is lost in utter night ! And with their backs towards the glow Of day that feebly thus doth show The rugged pathway, to and fro 246 HESTER. Grope stragglers who have lost their way, Or dubious whitherward to go, But seem to fancy heaven and day Abide with ages that have fled, Nor with the living, but the dead ! " I turn me to the Future — still A land of gloom and mist to mark ! Yet, glimmering faintly through the dark, Are rays of sunshine ; on some hill Here glancing for a moment, there Receding from the storm-tossed wave Of dreary coasts, or with wild glare Of spectral light, where tempests rave, Illumining some rugged pass ; And through these wilds, the mighty mass Of humankind doth onward bear, Surging and swaying like a sea Broke from its barriers — on their lead A troop of shining cavalry, Whose high command few seem to heed Of all that huge array, or know; — Horsemen of fire, and fiery steed, Such as the prophet's servant saw Of old when Syria's lord with war Encompassed Dothan ! " And though slow And dubious seem their march, and met By craggy rampart, sweeping tide, Gulf, chasm, and crater deep and wide — By obstacles of every guise — Still onward doth the great flow set, Right on, at every sacrifice ! " It scarcely needs that I explain My vision. Thus alone through strife And trial will mankind attain To nobler views of right and life. Such are the phases of the march Of progress ! — And the hopeful few, Athwart the future's storm-racked arch Of cloud, with eye of faith can view The bow of promise ; dim, 'tis true, And oft eclipsed, but surely there ! 248 HESTER. And when hid, and this few would tire, Those unseen messengers of fire, God's deputies, have them in care, To cheer them onwards and inspire To courage ! And the host of man, Reckless alike of aim or plan — Come jostling after — save it be The scattered bands that down the vale Of ages, would trace back his trail With hope to find his destiny Unriddled — as if grew the fruit, One looks for of the spreading tree, Not on the boughs, but at the root ! " Yet once again, in accents weak, The dying Jew essays to speak — " Where art thou, Desiree ? Come near! Give me thy hand ! — This sad career Is almost over ! Bright and wide Before me sweeps the purple tide That sunders earth-life from the shore Of the unchanging Evermore ! THE JEWS LAST HOURS. 249 Far voices, far and faint, which bring Remembrance of the careless days Of childhood ; of the sweet, sad lays My gentle sisters used to sing ; Of busy hum of town and farm, And bird and bee, that in the calm Of summer eves, was wont to charm My dreamings, and the breath and dew Of blossoming trees and flowers that grew On cherished hill and vale, remote And long forsaken — seem to float Upon my senses, and renew Their loves within my soul ! " And child, Stoop nearer, nearer ; on that strand Beyond the purple wave, doth stand , Amidst the white-robed undefiled, Thy sainted mother — as in wait To welcome me ! — in form the same As when her beauty woke the flame Of first love in my heart — imbued Too deeply ere to be renewed — 250 HESTER. The same as when she linked her fate With mine — but 0, how more elate Of loveliness, could such thing be ! With placid smile she beckons me To come, like that she wore the day When from my arms she passed away, And left me to combat alone The weary years that since have flown ! " With many a pause, and shake of head, And gasp for breath, had this been said — And now he turned upon his bed ; And all was lulled to quietude, Save when the night blast, still as rude As ever, swept exultant by, Or down the black chasm of the sky With strange, deep ululations broke, As 'twere some flying fiend pursued By genii of the storm ! — None spoke, But in the pauses of the whir And tumult, every ear was bent Above him, breathlessly attent ; the jew's last hours. 251 His eyes are closed, but once more stir His thin, pale lips : " My senses swim — Where tarriest thou, my daughter? — Speak! Give me thy hand — my sight grows dim, But heaven grows plainer — here — thy cheek, Stoop for my last kiss — now farewell Forever, children ! — Hark ! the swell Of seraph voices from yon shore ! Naomi's blending with the band ! " — Here, stretching forth his eager hand, As if to greet some one before His couch — "I come ! " he cried, " I come ! " Then sank back, and in death was dumb! CHAPTER V. Unbounded wealth came to the knight Through the departed Israelite ; But who can trust to Fortune's game ? Before the month the fickle dame Had played him falsely — he became A prisoner in the pasha's power, In short — borne off at midnight hour ; By whom betrayed to this duress, What boots it to attempt to guess ? — There are friends ; — yet experience shows To most of us, that oft with those Who seem such, may be plotting foes ! But be this so, or as it may, He was a prisoner — sooth to say ! — 17 254 HESTER. Poor half-demented Desiree ! In vain did she repine and plead From morn till night, from night till morn ; For if the ruler's slaves gave heed, 'Twas but to mock with threats and scorn ; She was not even allowed to know The place of his imprisonment, Or on what charge he was impent — And weary weeks and months of wo Went by — oh ! bitter, bitter, slow, And drear — nor learned she their intent ! At last, despairing of success With the oppressor, in her zeal She formed the purpose to appeal To England's stern lord for redress ; She'd go in person, and would cast Herself, if need were, at the feet Of the Protector, and intreat Of him forgiveness of the past, And present help ! Scarce had she caught FATE OP THE JEWESS. 255 (While pondering deeply), at the thought, Ere her arrangements all were made. Guised as a fellah to evade Suspicion, with her baby boy — All that she now possessed of joy On earth — and one sole follower, who Had always to the knight proved true, She crossed the desert, and set sail From Scandaroon. Alas ! my tale Has little more with her to do ! Poor De'sire'e ! The Isle of Wight Was made, and England's bluffs in sight Hung like a cloud on ocean's rim ; — Erewhile the hazy sun grew dim, And with the darkness of the night Came sudden tempest ; and despite Their every effort they were borne, With shattered spars and canvas torn — All helpless — 'gainst a sunken reef Amidst the boiling breakers ! Brief 256 HESTER. The work those sweeping surges made With ship and crew — while on the shore The shivering denizens implore Each other vainly ; none can aid ! And when the morrow morning shone, 'Midst broken plank, and bale, and stave, Whirled shoreward by the toppling wave, Along the neighboring beach were strown Full many a corse ! Not one remained Alive of all on board — and there, With sea-grass and the sand ingrained Among the tresses of her hair, Lay Desiree, so placid, fair, And beautiful, and lorn, that they Who passed were fain to turn away Their eyes for fear they should betray Their sympathies in tears, although Inured to scenes of wreck and wo, And death, which storms in every shape Brought to their breaker-beaten cape. Poor De'sir^e ! None knew her then, THE LONE GRAVE. 257 Or of her babe — if it were found Thereat or after, with the drowned. — Among the wild flowers of the glen At hand, beneath a storm-wrenched tree, Whose branches swept the lonely lea For rods, those swart, kind-hearted men And matrons made her lowly grave ; Her funeral service sang the wave ! They left her there to sleep alone ; And at her head some cotter placed A simple slab of quarry stone, On which in rustic lines were traced, " The drowned girl^name and home unknown." And years there, by the sounding flood, This unpretending tablet stood Among the wild flowers ; till one day A stranger came, and went his way — And soon thereafter, in its stead A marble shaft above the dead Appeared, whereon the stroller read The brief inscription, " De'siree." 258 HESTER. " Good Carl, so sadly you relate The tale of this poor maiden's fate, " Said Hester mournfully, and deep In thought — "I scarcely can but weep ! Well, well and truly did she keep Her bridal vows, and lost her life As would become a lawful wife In such momentous case ! "0, me ! This all puissant love may be A jeweled dagger in the heart Of its unwitting devotee ! But now, Carl, for the counterpart Of this sad story — what became Of him on whom should fall the blame Of all this ruin, grief, and shame ? I can but pity him — but say, Did he meet his deserts, I pray? " "Hold, lady ! " quoth Carl, u is it well Thus to pursue the fallen ? If love THE POWER OF LOVE. 259 Hath such puissance as you tell, Methinks, at least, that it might move To some forbearance in his case ! Thou hast been told his story ; men When they perchance their love misplace, Love the more fearfully ! And then, I did not claim he was a saint ! " " Yet why not give him grace to call To aid, at least some slight restraint, Ere this unholy passion's thrall Had mastered him ? Therein you failed ; "Wouldst have the fortress when assailed, Succumb at once without a blow ? Nay ! good Carl Hildebrand — not so ! Not so 1 however you defend This thine imaginary friend." "Well, gentle mistress, quite enough Of turmoil, suffering, and rebuff Was his, " said Carl, with mournful smile, " And that but meet the case ! — Erewhile We left him held in durance vile ; 260 HESTER. But still he had one faithful friend Besides the Jewess, to the end — The same who o'er the desert sand Escorted her to Scandaroon ; Returning thence, this servant planned Unceasingly for the relief Of the imprisoned, and in brief, At last obtained the wished-for boon — But only at the sacrifice Of nearly all the wealth the Jew Had left — not deemed momentous prize To him in his lorn state, 'tis true ! Again alone and desolate, He wandered forth, and long his fate If any recked, remained unknown ; In time, howe'er, it somehow came To light, that 'neath another name — I mind not, save 'twas not his own — He had acquired extended note Among the oppressed of orient lands, Till, leader of dark Suliote FALL OF THE KNIGHT. 261 And fiercer Montenegrin bands, In battle waged against the Turk, Where basilisk did ghastly work, And sabres flashed in frenzied hands, Till carnage gorged the thirsty sands, He fell — he fell while on his ear His squadrons sang the victor cheer ! " Thus, lady, is my story told ! " — " And it hath had a wondrous hold Upon me, good Carl, to depress My heart ; " said Hester. "Ay! despite His foul dishonor, scarcely less Could I feel for him had this knight Been my own father ! — " And the test, That always right is always best, Hath thy recital well expressed, Good Carl — that evil will requite With evil, manage as we will ! " — Returned he, " Lady ! no grave clerk Am I to pother morals, still — 262 HESTER. And such your mood — this have I learned Through all my life, that whether Turk, Or Jew, or Christian be concerned, None may their evil doing shirk ! That wrong, in any shape, will bring Or soon or late, its meted sting, As sure as harvest follows spring ! " But now good bye ! I see the moon Is verging on towards the noon Of night. How solemn and how deep The quietude ! 'Tis time to sleep ; May angels o'er thee watches keep ! " END OF CARL HILDEBRAND'S STORY. CHAPTER VI. Another day had nearly flown Since from Ohebeague young Hubart sailed For Richmond Island ; yet he failed In his return ; and Hester lone Sat by the shore in pensive mood, In a recess deep in the wood, Where far through airy openings shone Blue glimpses of the sun-bright seas — A favorite alcove where the trees Uplifted their great shafts on high, And spread their foliage o'er the sky In many a lofty arch, and made The place with its mysterious shade Like some old gothic minster seem — The clumps of undergrowth its shrines 264 HESTER. And altars, and the scandent vines Depending from the mossy trunks, Like censers swung by unseen monks - The more so now the sun's slant beam Looked in among the columns gray, And lit each aisle and winding way With that empurpled, dreamy haze Which often curbs the day-god's blaze In north lands, on long summer days. Here Hester seated, still must dwell On old Carl's story ; and the spell Of strange unquiet it had wrought Upon her, all in vain she sought Alike to comprehend or quell ! Why more than other deft conceit Should this one bring anxiety To her perplexed brain? — But see ! From yonder wild, wave-washed retreat, O'er which those sinewy birches cling, The watchful heron takes to wing ! hubart's return. 265 Some one approaches — hurrying feet Come nearer, nearer ; at the sound The swift blood dyes the maiden's face ! A moment more, and with a bound, Young Hubart gains the wooded mound, And she has met his warm embrace With open arms and throbbing heart ! " Our ship is at her trading mart, " At length he spake, " and I am here Swift as old Squanto's skill could steer.' ' " And scarcely knew I, to remain And bide your coming, or to fly ! " Said Hester, with her deep, blue eye Expressive of both joy and pain, Fixed on him. " What ! " cried he, " again So dubious ! — why not bid me go At once, so I the worst might know ? — Perhaps I had advised thee so, Save that I heard that bosom's beat But now a different tale repeat! " 266 HESTER. " And what about the heart's deceit The preacher talks of? " answered she, With an arch smile, whose witchery Was compensation to his mind, For thrice the fault. Ere he could find Words for reply, Otraska sprung Before them — in her hands she bore A missive — " From the Silent Tongue ! " With eager fingers Hester tore The seal, and read— but as she read, The flush upon her features fled, And grasping for support the beech, Whose long, green branches within reach Descended, with a deep-drawn sigh, She held the note to Hubart's eye ! " Dear daughter, love and peace to thee, And every good ! " In this wise ran The scroll — (just now what mockery ! ) " An Indian runner swift of speed Will bear this ; give it careful heed, THE UNWELCOME LETTER. 267 As you'd avoid the scorn, the ban Of Heaven and mankind ! Letters mailed From England, bear the unwelcome bruit That Hubart Walsyngham had sailed, — Thou well dost wot of his pursuit — Directly bound for Casco Bay ; Should he arrive while I'm away, Avoid him ; have no word of speech, Or missive from him, I beseech ! As you count honor dear, and life Without reproach — as you would spare Myself a curse too great to bear, Turn from him as a deadly snare ; You never can become his wife I " He grasped, the letter and amazed, Stunned by the blow, they mutely gazed Upon each other ; but the blood, Come back at length to Hubart's face, Bespoke a variance of his mood, And striding to and fro with pace Impatient, he exclaimed, " I see 268 HESTER. It all ! — 'Twas with the sole intent To put a bar 'twixt me and thee, That thou to this far isle wast sent ! But Hester dear, could he not deign In some remote way to explain If such insuperable bar As hinted at, exists to mar Our happiness for aye on earth ? It comes not, sure, of dower or birth ! And though I had not claimed such worth As others, still me thinks no blame Of note attaches to my name ! — " Nay ? Hester, 'tis but some strange whim Hath seized him — some bewildering thought Revolved till judgment hath grown dim Upon this point — or worse distraught ! Ffaith ! it is — it must be so ! " — Here Hester quickly raised her head From the unmitigated wo In which she had been cast — as though To question if were idly said AN URGENT APPEAL. 269 The thought ! Indeed, it seemed to start An echo in her own sad heart ; And he, with deeper earnestness, Went on the sudden thought to press : " Not wealth, state, consanguinity, — These, Hester, stand not in the way ; Then, had he named some future day — But mark it, ' Thou canst never be His wife ! ' Canst never ! Surely here Is proof indubious of the thrall Of some illusion, Hester dear ! For certes, such debarring wall, Save come of blood ties, well we wist, Could not in anywise exist — And from the Conqueror down, thy line Hath never intermixed with mine ! — Then wherefore bide this keen suspense In future ? Let us hasten hence ; I've at Wescustogo a friend In clerkly orders, tried and true, Come to this wild land to pursue 18 270 IIESTEE. His holy work, who would attend Our wishes — let us hence and plight Our marriage vows, at once — to-night ! " She started as in deep alarm At the proposal — yet her arm, Which he had seized, was still detained In his — " Demented ! " murmured she, - Lost in a world of reverie — " My dear, proud father — can it be ? " But though the bare suggestion pained Her sorely, yet it brought relief, Or respite, to that other grief ! She called to mind his frequent moods Of seeming deep remorse or fear ; His quick starts when herself drew near ; His absences day after day, In the far glens and trackless woods — Alone in loneliest solitudes — Where even his dogs were driven away ; His converse as with things of air, A SUDDEN RESOLUTION. 271 Half imprecation and half prayer, Muttered in accents of despair ; His change of humors without cause Apparent, — and for her to pause Was scarcely less than to accede — And then the manly Hubart pressed Anew so urgently his quest — What marvel that she gave it heed, As trembling, with her features hid Upon his neck, at length she did ! This resolution once embraced, There was but little time to waste In preparation ! But the plight Of circumstances favored flight Just now, for Carl had gone away To some remote isle up the bay ; And as for Marjory, good dame (Though always loving, kind, and true), So that they left her to pursue Her own affairs, 'twas all the same To her, whate'er they chose to do ; 272 HESTER. She never showed the least desire To interfere or even inquire ! — Otraska hastened to the shore, With fleetness of a mountain deer, To trim the pinnace — never wore That swart face look of blither cheer ; While Hester, calling to her aid That strength of will which never lacked In an emergency, betrayed Naught of the tempest which had racked, And still continued to assail, Her bosom, though as marble pale. With hurried steps she homeward tracked Her way, to forecast for her flight And future life as best she might ; And ere an hour its lapse had marked Upon the dial, they embarked ! CHAPTER VII. Not far from stately Yarmouth town, Where the green fields go sloping down Towards the shore, 'midst groves of birch, There whilom stood a gray old church, A relic of the Long Ago, When substance was preferred to show ! Methinks, in fixing on its site, The pious builders would unite The charms of lone and lovely scenes, In calling to our minds the love Of our good Father-God above, So potent, with the readier means Of teaching from the sacred desk — For scarce detail more picturesque 274 HESTER. Could be, — of gentle grassy swell, And wooded ridge, and slope, and dell, And far, blue water, than is here Combined in view ! — And many a year, It was on Sabbath the resort Of all the country far and near ; But Time, the innovator, wrought Sad change ! The richer slopes and plains More inland lured to settlement, Where pther and more sumptuous fanes Were built ; and of the hamlet, went Some to new homes, and others died With age, till the old pile, bereft Of all its consequence, was left Discarded and unoccupied ! No longer in the lambent calm Of summer Sabbaths, when away, Delayed far on the windless bay, Did pious fisher ken the charm Of swelling hymn and fervent shout, That from its walls came faintly out ; THE OLD CHURCH. 275 No longer did its gilded spire, Grown dim with rust, gleam with the fire Of morn or eve, above the trees — A landmark on the lonely seas ; Forever had its glories fled ! The golden dandelion spread Its crowns thick in the paths that led Towards its entrance ; and all day — When Sabbath with its holy spell Of silence reigned o'er hill and dell — Disturbed by ne'er a pilgrim's tread, The grasshopper might tune his lay Upon the broad stone step before The lintel of its oaken door, As was his wont, and o'er its floor The field-mouse scamper in his play — And swallow darting in and out The broken panes, with joyous shout Of freedom, twitter to his mate And nestlings in their nook, below The cornice, undisturbed. But fate 276 HE ST E K. Had darker destiny in stow For the lorn temple — 'twas decreed At last, in council of the town Assembled, that it must come down ! And so with all praiseworthy speed, It was demolished ! — and the weed And bramble now their pains unite To hide almost its very site ; And save in its quaint spire and vane, Secured upon a rocky height At hand, no vestige doth remain Of that revered and stately fane ! But we would turn back to the time When it was new, and in its prime Of sanctity, and to the night Of Hester and young Hubart's flight. — The evening had come on, serene And silent, and the shadowy scene Around glowed to the glimmery light Of the thick stars — and there beside The altar stood they, groom and bride ; THE WEDDING. 277 While near, the youthful pastor kneeled With face upturned in silent prayer To Heaven. A single torch's flare But dubiously and dim revealed The fashion of the vasty nave And solitary choir, and gave To every object look bizarre And weird. And Hester, ashy pale — Pale as the floating, snowy veil Flung backward from her nut-brown hair — But still untremulous and calm, Leaned thoughtfully on Hubart's arm ; While mute and motionless as stone, But with her black eyes keenly bent Upon the two, and ear attent, Otraska stood apart alone. And farther down towards the door, The flicker of the torch betrayed A group of witnesses, some four Or five, or haply half a score, Matron and sire, and youth, and maid, 278 HESTER. Whose earnest faces in the light Erect, seemed strangely wild and white In contrast with the deeper shade Beyond. The holy man arose At length, and coming forward, spake — " I will not further undertake With my poor counsel to oppose Thy wishes, Hubart ! Though I fear, My more than brother's love for thee, Contracted in a passage drear And long across the gloomy sea, May Warp my judgment. But for all, The worser evil might befall, Should I by further doubt prolong These troubles ; and may Heaven forgive, If in this v matter we are wrong ! " Thereat he bade him to receive The hand of her he sought to wed ; And then the fitting words were said, And they were counted man and wife Through good and ill report, for life ! CHAPTER VIII It had been settled to proceed Upon the morrow, with all speed, To Pemaquid, where dwelt a friend On whom young Hubart could depend. The morning dawned serene and still, And on the broad blue wave, entranced In calm, on tranquil isle and hill Afar, the yellow sunbeam glanced With dreamy softness ; ne'er was morn More beautiful from darkness born ! — Already round the way-side inn, Where they had tarried, horse and guide, With full accoutrements supplied, Were gathered, ready to begin 280 HESTER. Their journey inland ; but their host (One Jethro Far well, then the boast Of all the country far and near For his abundance of good cheer, As for his wisdom) shook his head In doubt. " We shall have storm," he said, " Ere half the day is gone ! — Last night I marked the stars were thick and bright ; And coming to yon rocky ledge In their descent, paused on its edge Ere they went down ; and when the moon Arose, all was so still and clear, Some wakeful bird began to tune His song, as thinking day was near At hand ! — Those birds are curious things To tell of nature's ways ! Dost hear How constantly the more-rain sings, There yonder in the silver firs Beside the ledge ? And mark how high The eagle up the gauzy sky Is winding, while he scarcely stirs, UNEXPECTED DETENTION. 281 Or not at all, his broad, dark wings ! Not surer signs of storm could be, For certain ! " Hubart paid no heed To the old man's garrulity, But went on to prepare the steed For Hester. — " More the haste worse speed ! " Old Jethro pertinaciously Continued — "If you're so inclined, Go on ! Howe'er, you'll scarcely find This Indian trail, through bridgeless flood, And plashy meadow, tangled wood, And glen, like level English pike — But go on, youngster, and you like ! I've had my say ; you'll ken too late, Perchance, the truth of what I state." "And yet," he muttered, as aside He turned him, while a look of gloom Came o'er his features, " wo betide ! But this will be a sorry ride For yon pale passion-flower, his bride — 282 HESTER. 'Twill surely storm ! Mark, in the room, With what a sleepy, reddish hue The rising sun is streaming through The casement — sign I never knew To fail ! and down beside the shore, Though not a ripple doth explore The beach, the sedgy sea-grass swings, As if disturbed by gushing springs Beneath it ; and a filmy veil Wide o'er the bay's hushed surface clings — Not even a fish comes up to mar Its gossamery woof ; and far The ocean mutters and complains, As if through all its mighty veins And arteries it felt the gale Already deeply throbbing ! Nay, They should not issue hence to-day, Unless among the woods, midway They 'd meet it. " Hubart seemed perplexed ; " Sure fairer morning never broke Upon creation I" thus he spoke A STORM BREWING. 283 Abstractedly, and getting vexed — " A storm, forsooth ! what will they next ? " Then turning to the Indian chief, Old Squanto, who against a tree Stood leaning, asked what his belief As to the threatened storm might be. " The pale-face Farwell hath well said," Quoth Squanto — " Wampanhegan's head Stands 'gainst the blue sky, still and white — Pomola has his wigwam fled — It is not well The lily bell Should sleep among the woods to-night ! " — Forced to accede at last, in spite Of present sunshine, with a smile Of unbelief he flung the rein Upon his horse, and for a while At least, consented to remain. 'Twas well he did ; for presently The gauzy film upon the blue 284 HESTER. Of heaven, grew imperceptibly More dull, in every part it grew From nothing as it were, the same, Till scarcely could the staring sun Look through its meshes ; and there came A cavernous silence over hill And plain so breathless and so still, The people wondered. But more dun And shadowy, crouched along the east, A denser cloud had now begun To stretch its bulky form — so blent With the gray mists that had o'ersprent The sky, 'twas hard to mark where ceased The one into the other ! Fast And far, however, it increased O'er the horizon's edge, and cast An inky gloom upon the vast Of ocean — with a swinging moan It came on, as if upward thrown By impent forces, and the grain, And trees, and flowers, as if aware THE TEMPEST. 285 Of turmoil near, while yet the air Was breathless as the tomb, inclined From its approach, as if to find A shelter ; then the pattering rain Passed by in scattered drops, and brief Of intervals, and on the brook Wrought fairy rings ; and smitten leaf And burgeon turned away, and shook Their fronts — and in the moaning wind The forests rustled ! Not with sweep, Like as the thunder tempests burst Upon the hills, it came at first, But with inconstant, stealthful creep, Turning the leaves with gentle touch Like evening zephyrs, — with the gift Of music in its keeping, such As soothes the weary heart ; but swift To change its mood, it brought to bear All the deep forces of the air, And mist, and cloud, till in its clutch, Beset with whooping drift on drift 19 286 HESTER. Of swirling rain, copse, forest, tree, Wailed in the strife and agony Of the encounter, lank and drenched And bowed to earth, or stripped and wrenched ; And wild and whitening fled the sea In crouching billows to the shore — And all between the earth and sky- Was one convulsed and frantic roar, Such as old Jethro ne'er before Had known since first he settled by Those lonely waters ! Thus wore on The lagging hours, inert, and sad, And wearisome, till day was gone, And night and darkness came to add Their wilder features to the storm. — Xhe supper over, and behests Of labor's duty ended, warm And snug, the family and guests Were gathered in the common room Around the well-piled fire, whose light Contrasted cheerfully the gloom THE NIGHT BUGLE. 287 Without, when far out in the night, Upon the surgings of the gale, Was heard a bugle's long-drawn wail ! And then an Indian war-whoop smote Upon their ears, but less remote. All started, and old Jethro strode Towards the window, but in vain He looked ; for round the lone abode Just then a gust of wind and rain, More fierce than anything before, Came sweeping, rattling rafter, door, And window case ; and every pane Ran with the deluge ! " By my life ! But travelers must be distraught To be abroad in such a strife ♦ Of elements, when even a bear Would cower in his inmost lair ! " Said he, returning to his chair. — Again the tempest riot brought The bugle's blast, far off and lone, 288 HESTER. Then nearer whirled as if 'twere blown Close by the ridge with triple chime Of ti-ra-la ! " Strange goings on ! " The old inn-keeper mused, " but thanks ! The French and salvages are gone Content — or it were just the time To look for their infernal pranks ! " u And yet was that no mounseer's blast ; — I know them well " — continued he ; " But savors of the times long passed, Of hawking sports and venery, Of dear old England ! " At the name Of England, Jethro's patient dame Grew thoughtful ; and as fancy's dreams Dwelt on the green fields, gentle streams, And blue hills of the mother-land — The ivied cot where she was born, The loving friends and kin all lorn And scattered far, she raised her hand To hide the tear that would rebel, REMINISCENCES. 289 And but a moment after fell Upon the rounded, rosy cheek Of the young babe upon her lap — (Enjoying there its evening nap, And smiling at some infant freak Of dream caprice). The circumstance Evaded not her goodman's glance ; " Thou hast been thinking, Agatha, Of home," said he, " and well-a-day ! Would my own musings thither turn ; Yet Agatha, good wife, why yearn ? It is not as in days gone by With dear old England, now ; the sword Of the ungodly hath devoured Her sons, or sent them forth to die In other lands ; the unrighteous one And scoffer guide the reins of State — Her Zion lies all desolate — Her spiritual Jordan floweth on In blood ; " but save with stifled sigh, Dame Agatha made no reply. — 290 HESTER. Yet Hester with a throbbing heart Heard that wild blast — and pallid grew As winter's snows ; too well she knew That only old Carl had the art Of all the region to impart The like, and in her husband's ears She whispered hurriedly her fears, And both as hurriedly withdrew. A moment after from without Was heard loud knocking, then a shout, Demanding entrance ; but before The taverner unbarred the door, He seized his broadsword, while his son, A sturdy youth of seventeen, Took from the wall a lusty gun, Which looked as though it long had been In service, and with hand midway Upon the barrel, stood at bay, Eeady to bring it to his eye ! — When Jethro looked out, earth and sky Seemed total blackness ; but the light BELATED TRAVELERS. 291 Fell on a sorry-looking wight. Who, pale and drenched, held by the rein A shivering steed ; and at his side There stood a well-known Indian guide, With folded arms, as in disdain Of all the pother ! — To the shed At hand the weary horse was led, And they were welcomed in. — "A storm To be remembered this," outspake Old Jethro, as he bade them take A seat upon the chimney form. " You may well say it — storm ? — good lack! " Exclaimed the horseman, " I have felt The burning simoom round me pelt On Afric wastes, without a track Or shelter ; I have suffered wrack On Coromandel, at the hand Of tempest fierce, where burning sand Blent in its whirl earth, sky, and main ; Have been stormed by the hurricane 292 HESTER. Of Ind, and heard the typhoon hiss And howl adown the China seas, But never knew such night as this ! Storm, quotha ! Boughs of splintering trees, Leaves, gravel, stalks, tufts, shattered rails, Broke loose from all restraint, and blent Together — every element Combined adrift ! — not merely gales, But maelstroms of rain-riot, squall, Spray, foam — from every point, and all At once ! — Nay ! good sir — knew I ne'er Before such strife of atmosphere — Good lack ! methinks my every vein Diluted with this searching rain ! " " Thou hast," said Jethro, " chosen a day Of tempest, for thy travels, sure! " — " My business would not brook delay " — Returned the cavalier — " Nay, more ! If 'twere not that the bridge were gone On yonder roaring stream, 'twixt here And Harraseeket, howsoe'er BELATED TRAVELERS. 293 The gale might bluster and career, I would at every risk go on ! But I have done what mortal could, " He muttered in abstracted mood, As to himself — " must leave the rest To Heaven i " Old Jethro eyed his guest With curious gaze ; and then aside, Addressed somewhat exultantly His son — " Who knows what might betide Our stranger lodger and his bride, At this dread moment, but for me ? " " Bride ! " said old Carl, with eager mein ( For why should I essay to screen The fact, that brave Carl Hildebrand And the fleet Indian who to hand Had brought the missive that had been The impulse of the lovers' flight, Were the new guests), — " Heard I aright ? Has been a bridal here of late ? " The taverner, alert to state 294 HE S TEE. The news, proceeded to rehearse The wedding's details — of the place, The time, — the bride and groom, their grace Of bearing, fashion, form, and face — - Even to the chapter and the verse Of St. Paul whence the parson read The trembling wife a homily On what her duties thence would be Towards her spouse — " And they were wed ! " Said Carl, impatient grown and pale, Abruptly cutting short the tale ; " They were ! " — The announcement sent a shock Of anguish through the veteran's frame ; But in a moment he became Staid as the ocean-beaten rock. CHAPTER IX. Carl Hildebrand strode through his room Alone ; perplexity and gloom Upon his forehead — sometimes leapt Almost, as though he sought to evade Some evil which, close as his shade, Still dogged him ; then more calmly stepped, Then swerved aside ; then to a halt Came suddenly, as if at fault In his wild mood, and clenched his fists Till every vein about his wrists Was knotted, and the scarlet blood, Dammed in its channels to a flood, Grew purple ! Presently the door Swung open, and with angry eye, 296 HESTER. Young Walsyngham stands there before The old servitor — " Pray, good sir, why This strange intrusion ? " cried he — " 'slife Concerns it myself, or my wife ? " " Wife ! " echoed Carl -"I pity thee ! Would Heaven that such a thing could be — That I had power to avert the blow From her and thee ! but proud sir, know, She is thy sister! " — Calm and slow Came the rejoinder — " Truly ! sits The current thus ? — good Carl, thy wits Are getting shoal, or gone astray — But I will not with scorn repay Thy well-meant whim. " " Would it were so ! " The sad reply — "I'd barter all Of wit, or whate'er I possess, To know no evil would befall Thine own and Hester's happiness From this sad act ! Would 'twere a freak Of poor old Carl's demented brain, A RIDDLE SOLVED. 297 And thus lie could avert the stain — But Heaven be witness that I speak The simple truth 1" Young Hubart's cheek Grew somewhat whiter, yet he stood With folded arms ;• and scarce the smile Of humor fled his lips, the while Old Carl proceeded to unfold The tale he had to Hester told Of DesireVs sad love — the same, Save that in place of Rudolph's name He substituted Ravenswood ! And in the fatal shipwreck, save Her babe was rescued from the wave — By some strange error, or by sham Designed, called Hubart Walsyngham Thenceforward — and now in the pride Of manhood stood there by his side, There, with his sister for his bride ! — Lord Hubart gazed with steady eye, And arms still folded, on old Carl — 298 HESTER. " Here is, i'faith, a pretty snarl To be unwound" — but his reply Was cut short by a stifled groan Behind them from towards the door ; And lifeless in upon the floor Fell Hester, white as marble stone, As cold and silent ! — Urged by fear, Not knowing cause to keep aloof, Unnoticed she had followed near, And heard old Carl adduce the proof Of her own hopeless ruin — heard The strange recital, every word ! CHAPTER X Man ! man ! how strange a mystery ! The fearfullest calamity Gives calmness to the nerves and brain Of some who suffer ! I have seen A parent o'er his children slain, His every child, stand calm, serene, Directing fittingly — more calm Than those who thronged around, for they Grew pale, and shuddering, turned away With anguish — no pain, no alarm — And yet within another day, His head was white as winter's snow ! And once I mind me, long ago, There was a parent who did save His lifeless son, the young, the brave, 300 HESTER. And beauteous, from the tempest wave, Where none might aid, and made his grave Upon the unknown, homeless wild, Where they were cast — his only child — Secure and deeply in the sand, Beyond the keen hyena's scent, And marked the place where lay impent The dead with fitting moniment — And o'er himself kept such command The while, that not a single groan Escaped him, not a sign of wo ! Yet thenceforth walked the earth as though He were its denizen alone, A prey to desolation ! — So With Hubart ; from her pallid brow He brushed the sweat, and smoothed her hair ; And lifting her with gentlest care, Conveyed her lightly to her bed, And raised the pillow for her head, Deft as the mother when at night She hollows out a cosey nest FORTITUDE. 301 For her weaned first-born, and despite Her anxious fears, leaves it to rest Alone and unattended save By guardian angels ! — Brief in speech, But definite as brief, he gave His orders, tranquil as the leech Long practiced, working for his fee — Applying every remedy Suggested by the sympathy Of Jethro's good dame ; and although Long hours — how wearisome, how slow ! Dragged by, and she remained as chill And blank as at the outset, still He faltered not — nor meantime swerved A moment from his charge his thought, Save once, and then old Carl, unnerved And crushed with the disaster, caught His eye — " Here is some sad mistake Which I may solve, good Carl ! " he spake — " At fitting time ; perchance too late To balk the sad decrees of fate — 20 302 HESTER. But surely so ; and she is mine By human law, as by divine — Mine, mine alone — unless the bride Of death ! " No further words were said Upon the matter — none replied ; And thus dragged on the moments dread ; While still the elemental strife Went on without. But when her life Came back, as come it did at length, Though faint and nickering, then his cheek In turn grew pale, and waned his strength To helplessness ! — But wherefore eke Our tale out like a prairie stream That flows for months to reach the sea ? At length she spoke coherently — " Where am I, Hubart ? Did I dream ? — Methought an angel came to me To say, mistakingly I grieved, That good old Carl had been deceived By specious tales — and I might be EXPLANATIONS. 303 Your own true wife, and yet not break The laws of Heaven ! — all a mistake ! " " My own true wife ! — none dare gainsay ! " Cried Hubart, springing to her side, " You are my own, my lawful bride ! — But sleep now ; and be satisfied With the full tale to-morrow." " Nay ! " She urged imploringly, " avow It all, the worst, the best — and now " — ■ And old Carl's eager eyes expressed As deep concern in this request ! " Then be it so ; " said Hubart, " well, You know the race of Walsyngham ; "When my grandsire, old Hubart, fell ' Neath the redoubts at Amsterdam, It scarcely needs that I relate The escheat, titles, and estate Fell to the eldest son and line, Then gone abroad to Palestine 304 HESTER. Upon some mission of the Court ; Nor how that son came to his end In combat with his warmest friend — A duel, growing out of sport, Like many another such affair. His poor wife, crushed with bitter grief, Next, in the grave found a relief From trouble, and their babe and heir, A female , in its nurse's care, Home bound, departed from the Bay Of Scandaroon — it well may be With this same Jewess Desire'e ; The ship was wrecked, but from the sea The babe was rescued — need I say Confounded by good Carl with me Thenceforth ? The case is more than plain ! It died soon after ; here again Were facts to lead our friend astray ! My own existence, sooth to own ! Was at that time but little known ; My father as a second son EXPLANATIONS. 305 Had married secretly, to shun Thereby the old earl's ire, who held The match beneath him, though the spouse Could number in her line, of eld, More chiefs and warriors than our house Could claim, by scores ! But she was poor, A sin sufficient to ignore The union ! — I was some months old When this fair infant cousin died — And there were persons who denied The child's decease, so I have heard, Foes to our influence, who averred My father had in good time told The specious story, that he might Thereby the more securely hold Estate and titles, mine of right As being the elder brother's heir ; But proof abundant of the sex, At hand, of the deceased was there ! And he was quite too proud to vex Himself about the slander, so It was forgotten long ago ! " 306 I1ESTEK. Meanwhile had Carl and Hester hung Upon each word dropped from his tongue, With breathless hush, and both at once Burst forth in vehement response Of gratulation, and of praise To Heaven ! " Thus wondrous are the ways Of Providence," said she, while tears Suffused her eyes — " and so the fears And troubles which have hung for years About us, from their mystery All the more dread, have flown for aye ! — And my poor father — now I see How dire the thought that night and day Hath dogged him, taunting him alway ! The wonder is he was not driven Long since to madness ! " But high Heaven ! What were my fate had Carl's surmise Been truthful ! " And she hid her eyes In her crossed hands, and shuddering turned Away ; while Carl, who madly yearned EXPLANATIONS. 307 To hear each most minute detail, And half demented with excess Of this unlooked-for happiness, Rushed on him with a tempest hail Of questions — as 'twere every side At once — nor would be satisfied Till Hubart o'er and o'er had tried To explain each incident most slight — Especially of that wild night Of wreck, when from the billow's whirl (As he a child had often heard The tale) they saved the baby girl — The old man treasuring every word ; How the waves thundered to the reef, And pausing, for a moment brief, Like crouching tigers ere they leap Upon their prey, with mighty sweep Sprang forward, clinging to the steep, With their lithe, searching fingers wound In every crevice — then a bound Adown the crag, and all below Was one wild whirl of hissing snow, §08 HESTER. On which went poppling to and fro A bundle, dancing like a cork Around the boiling basin — such At least, had been his nurse's talk — And when from the rude breakers' clutch Was won the parcel, therein wrapped Secure, the infant girl was found, Composed as though it had but napped A moment — snatched thus from the wave, Ere summer fled, to find a grave Beneath the grassy burial mound. CHAPTER XI 'Tw^s planned that Hubart should in brief, These facts to Hester's father write, And that their friend, the Indian chief, Should with the note at dawn of light Depart — and ne'er had Hester known Such depth of joy, as when alone Thereafter, with her white arms thrown Round Hubart's neck, she marked him trace The scroll ! And though about her face, In many a twirl and tangled tress Dishevelled fell her glossy hair, And though in sorry plight her dress, Ne'er had she seemed more passing fair To him, while thus upon his chair She hung, and watched his every look ! 310 HESTER. Sooth ! had the tempest which still shook With angry clutch the cabin, wracked And piecemeal torn away the roof r 'Twere doubtful but the spell had proof Been to a knowledge of the fact ! Night paled — morn kissed the earth, and both Blushed crimson ! And the tempest, loth To quit the contest, muttering drew His forces northward far away, Cloud after cloud, till the array Was gone from sight ; and rising day Burst forth in glory, 0, how new And beautiful ! the air all balm, The deep, deep sky -so softly blue, The atmosphere so wholly calm, The dullest could but feel the charm In some sort. Yet that brilliant morn Looked on a scene of havoc dread ! Prostrated fences, trees uptorn, Or shivered limb from limb, and spread WRECKS OF HARVEST. 31 1 O'er ridge and slope ; and o'er the field, The corn and grain, the promised yield Of harvest, which so lately shook In every breath its trestled gold, Ripe for the sickle, scattered — rolled In matted swaths to every nook And glen, wherever it might lurch ; While the more supple elm and birch, That had through all the strife maintained Their stand, exhausted, wrenched, and strained, Drooped, with their long arms listless hung About them, like tired guards among The wrecks of battle ! Sad indeed, The scene that claimed old Jethro's heed ; But he, good man, gave Heaven the praise, That though thus hopelessly bereft Of all his crops of wheat and maize, His sheltering mansion still was left, And of the previous harvest's grain Enough, with prudence, would remain To last till autumn came again ! 312 HESTER. Herein was true philosophy, If nothing more ! If mankind nurse Remembrance of adversity, It but the more augments the curse ; And heaven turns not with every freak Of adverse or propitious fate ; 'Tis what we have, not what we seek, Should be the question — heaven 's a state ! 'Tis what we are at present, not How will the future mend our lot ; In vain we long, in vain we wait, In Vain self-immolated bow ; Ours is the present — cultivate The paradise at hand, the now ; The future ever will remain The future, howsoe'er we strain To overtake it — and we dwell On earth at choice, in heaven or hell ! This may be counted heresy In some sort ! Every truth at first Is such, and brave and timid flee ASCETICISM. 313 Its presence, as a thing accursed ! For all, 'tis fact ! Still there are those Would deem it impious to oppose Despair — those who to suffering cling, As if expectant thence to wring Perfection ; courting an excess Of pain — as gnats which sometimes sting Their life away when rankled — this By some deemed Christian, is no less The pagan's patent road to bliss, The platform of his funeral pyre, Of every scourge to calm the ire Of his fierce gods ! But we digress. Perchance it scarcely needs be said That Jethro's guests, the newly wed And good old Carl, changed their design Of journeying further east ! In fine, They turned towards their island home. Here they arrived as evening close Was tinging with its smile the dome Of the deep heavens — ye may suppose 314 HESTER. In blither mood than when the shore So late they fled! But one thing more, Did the young bride need to secure The sum of earthly happiness — Her father's presence and caress ; Nor wanted long — for to their view Just now appears a fleet canoe Around Quohaga's isle, propelled By two athletic men, and held Directly for the landing place ; And in the supple form and grace Of one, her eyes were quick to see Her noble parent. It was he ! The Indian runner on his way Had met him. Flashed the snowy spray Erom their quick blades — and soon he pressed His daughter to his throbbing breast. His great dread had forever flown — His happiness appeared complete ! Nor was he less o'erjoyed to greet LONGING FOR HOME. 315 Her spouse — had Hubart's pulses run With blood entitled to a throne, He had not been less proud to own The daring youngster for his son ! But little further need be penned To bring our history to its end. A life upon the lonely sea And in the forest solitude Had grown to a necessity Almost, as 'twere, with Ravenswood ; And all continued at the isle, And two years ran their rounds ; meanwhile, A fair-haired, winsome, chubby elf, The lesser transcript of herself, Came opportunely to beguile The life of Hester, which had been, It may be, otherwise serene ] To tediousness. — But Hubart's ear Was ever all alert to hear News of the mother-land ! 'Twas plain He longed to see its shores again, 316 H E ST E E. And try his talents in a sphere Of wider action ; and at last He spake his thoughts — and one fair day In autumn came a ship, and cast Her anchor in the inner bay ; And when at morn she bore away, They were on board, sire, wife, and child, Embarked for home — and nevermore Returned they to the lonely wild ! But old Carl, who some months before Had wedded Marjory, became The island's sole possessor ; there He lived in honorable fame For years, and ready aye to share His hospitalities with all Who in his way might chance to fall, Or rich or poor — and to the end Remained the red man's warmest friend ! — He died at last — dame Marjory Soon followed ; and their grassy graves Upon a wild bluff, by the sea, Oft sprinkled by the tempest's spray — OTRASK A' S TATE. 317 ( Beneath a lone and lofty tree, That marked the spot far o'er the waves ) Were known until a recent day. As to Otraska, but a week Had Hester been a wedded bride, Ere she had left the isle to seek The wigwams of her kin, beside The distant Moosehead's lonely wave, Where she abode ; but every spring It was her wont to seek the grave Of her lost lover, there to sing Alone the death-chant, and to deck The tranquil spot with forest flowers — And each time spent at least some hours With Hester, ere that friend for aye Had gone. Till once in an essay To cross the swollen Kennebec In freshet, she was borne away Amidst the wild debris and wreck ; Ne'er heard of after! Poor, bereft, 21 318 HESTER. And lonely maiden ! None were left To seek her — to investigate The circumstances of her fate. And if they had sought, what avail ? None now were left, none, to bewail ! Gone to the mansions of the blest — Yet truer heart, we will attest, Ne'er beat in faithful woman's breast ! NOTES NOTES The name of Casco which it bears, Importing in the Indian tongue A resting place from toils and cares. — p. 18. An aged Indian of the Penobscot tribe, of whom I inquir- ed, gave me to understand that the name by which his people knew this beautiful bay meant " a resting place." None was more beauteous than Chebeague. — p. 14. Chebeague — the Indian name of the largest and most pro- ductive of the islands in Casco Bay. It has now several hundred inhabitants. So Knox long years thereafter, when America with Albion's might, Was pitched in desperation's fight, With thunder voice controlled his men. — p. 16. The American general Knox, in the war of the Revolution, was famed for the strength of his voice, as well as for his unflinching bravery. Dost know, dear father, of the land Whence tower those mighty mountains 1 — p. 39. 322 NOTES. The mountains here referred to are the "White Mountains of New Hampshire. They are distant from Portland more than seventy miles on an air line (about one hundred by the several routes of travel) ; but when the atmosphere is clear, may be distinctly seen from that city and other points on Casco Bay. Our tale is supposed to date back to a time previous to their exploration. They were, however, visited by the settlers as early as 1632. The Indians believed these mountains to be the abodes of invisible spirits, who controlled the winds and tempests ; and at times they offered sacrifices to, and worshipped these beings. Similar superstitions obtained with the whites; — and there are those, at the present day, who cling to a belief in these supernatural agencies, and tell of the wonderful experiences of their ancestors in regard to them. It is in reference to these superstitions that I make the chief Squanto turn away from Hester as if with dread, when asked by her for informa- tion concerning them (see foot of page 39). Wherever I have referred to them in this work, it is by the name of Wampanhegan. The aged Indian, referred to in the first of these notes, informed me that in the modern idiom of the Penobscot tribe, they are called " Wampanhegan Ouith- na." By the early historians of the region, they were some- times denominated " Waumbeket Methna " — and the similarity of the terms seems to indicate the same etymological basis for them. Inbound perchance for Richmond Isle. — p. 57. This island — situated to the south of Cape Elizabeth, and less than a mile therefrom — in the early occupation of the region, was the principal trading station on the coast eastward of Massachusetts Bay. It was variously known as Richman's, Richmond, and Richmond's Island. At the present day, it is NOTES. 323 cultivated as a farm ; and except in the mementoes which the plow occasionally turns up, bears no indications of its former commercial importance. One of these mementoes, plowed up a few years ago, was an earthern pot, containing gold and silver coins, some of which are still in possession of my esteemed friend, J. M. Cummings, Esq., the present proprietor of the island. * * The island of the Cave, The beauteous Indian Quohago. — p. 72. Diamond (formerly called Hog) island is here meant. By one of the early explorers of the region, it is stated that the Indian name of the group of islands in which this is included, or of the sound leading to them, was Quohago or Cohago. The early settlers of the region were disposed to contract and modify the Indian names of localities so as best to suit their English tongue ; and it is not improbable that the designation Hog, which the island so long bore, was the result of a change from Quohago. By an easy transition the change would be made. An arm of the sea between Harps well and Phipsburg still bears the name of Quohog Bay. There is room, too, for belief that Casco, the present name of the whole bay between Cape Elizabeth and the mouth of the Kennebec River, is but a modification of the same word. The name of the beautiful island, to which the lines at the head of this note refer (Diamond), was given some twenty years since by a party of young men from Portland, who visited it specially for the purpose, the author being one of the number. With speeches, songs, and sentiments, and a copious libation of wine to the genius loci, the new name was inducted. 324 NOTES. The solitary more-rain hushed In the deep glens his minstrelsy. — p. 73. "More-rain" — a name applied in some localities, by far- mers, to the Wood-Thrush ( the Turdus Melodus of Wilson), probably from the fact that it is most unremitting in its song when the sky is cloudy, or the rain is descending. Wilson says of this species of bird ( considered by many the most beautiful songster of all the feathered tribe of Amer- ica) : " Even in dark, wet, and gloomy weather, when scarce a single chirp is heard from any other bird, the clear notes of the Wood-Thrush thrill through the dropping woods from morning till night ; and it may truly be said that the sadder the day, the sweeter is his song. '" And o'er his soul Scenes of elysian beauty stole. — p. 84. In this passage I have endeavored to portray such sensa- tions as are said to be experienced by persons drowning. 'Twas no chimera Brutus saw Stride through his tent. — p. 90. Plutarch states that while Brutus sat quietly reading in his tent near Sardis, the ghost of Julius Caesar appeared sud- denly before him, and declared to him that he was his evil genius, and that he would meet him at Philippi — the scene of the battle where the defenders of Roman liberty were fatally overthrown. No fleshly monk From whom the imperial Russian shrunk. — p. 90. There was much talk in St. Petersburg concerning a super- natural visitation which the Emperor Nicholas experienced, NOTES. 325 some few months before his death — and the matter made no little stir in some of the European newspapers, whose spec- ulations in regard to it were copied quite extensively by the American press. As the story runs, the Emperor was seated alone in his apartment, which had but one means of access, and that in charge of some of his most trusty guards, when a monk in sable attire appeared before him, and denounced his schemes of ambition, and prophesied wo upon himself and his kingdom if he abandoned not his intents. The Emperor sprang at the intruder, to clasp only the air, and rushed out, sword in hand, exclaiming "The monk! the monk!" But the soldiers declared upon their oaths that no one had passed in or out. No echoes did the footfalls wake Of that mysterious, shadowy train, Whereof the long-haired Samian spake.' — p. 90. Pythagoras, who, it is supposed, had his birth at Sainos. was by the ancients sometimes designated as the " long-haired Samian. " The accounts of his experiences in regard to spir- itual attendants are extant in the annals of his time, which have come down to us. Worthy the name of Diamond Cove. — p. 96. A sheltered inlet, at the north-eastern extremity of Dia- mond Island, Casco Bay, still preserved in all its primitive wealth of woods, rocks, and wild flowers — a place much fre- quented by pic-nic parties from Portland, and noted through all the region round for its picturesque beauties. It probably takes its name from the abundance of the crystals of quartz which were formerly there found — in the parlance of the islanders called diamonds. 326 NOTES. Far away O'er many streams, there is a sea Blue as the summer skies. — p. 109. Moosehead Lake, the source of the Kennebec River, in the northwesterly part of the State of Maine, is here intended. The region around it is still unsettled, and is famous for the abundance of its game, as is the lake for its superior trout. . In morning's calm the maskalunge And red trout love to leap and plunge. — p. 110. The maskalunge, or maskalonge is a large species of pike, sometimes weighing sixty or eighty pounds, by some said to be found at present only in the great lakes, and the waters of the St. Lawrence basin, but I have been assured that it is still to be caught in Lake Massawippi in Canada ; but it is not reckoned a fish of the Moosehead' s waters. The name in the Canadian French patois (masque longe) means long head or long snout. • And was it not to-day We were to seek Merconnig stream. — p. 112. Merconnig, or Merriconeag was the Indian name of the peninsula of Harpswell, which is some six or eight miles north- easterly of Chebeague Island. The stream here alluded to, is the narrow inlet on the south-easterly side of the peninsula, which penetrates the main land several miles, and nearly in- tersects the Androscoggin river at West Bath. It now, I believe, forms a part of what is called " Merriconig Sound. " The flattered lord Of heroes of the festive board. — p. 118. Charles II., after the overthrow of the " Cavaliers " at Wor- NOTES. • 327 cester, fled to France, took up his residence at Versailles, and spent his time in dissipation. " hy the holy fount Of Zemzem!— p. 138. A fountain by this name is said to exist at Mecca — and the Mahomedans profess to believe that it is the same that, through Divine interposition, was discovered to Hagar, when she wandered in the wilderness, after being abandoned by Abraham. The descendants of Mahomet and other Maho- medan rulers, drink of its waters as a religious observance. That shout! 'tis not the muezzin's cry. — p. 148. A muezzin is a person who cries the hour of prayer in Ma- homedan countries — generally from the lofty galleries of the minarets which are attached to the mosques. They entered on a rough defile 'Midst beetling precipices riven, And rent, and torn, in every shape. — p. 155. In this and succeeding passages I have endeavored to give true pictures of the scenery in the desert of Sinai, and the sterile regions bordering the northerly portions of the Red Sea — as I have gathered them from various travelers. Miss Harriet Martineau, who made the journey from Bissateen to Sinai, and thence to Akabah, in her journal kept on the occa- sion (published under the title of "Eastern Life"), gives graphic descriptions of her experiences in these particulars. Speaking of a defile in the peninsula of Sinai, called Wady- el-Ain ( the Valley of the Spring ), she says : " We found ourselves in a gorge, compared with whose sum- mits, Sinai and Horeb appeared almost insignificant. Every 328 NOTES. winding displayed something finer than we had before met with ; and at last we came upon a scene to which we remem- bered no parallel. We all knew Switzerland, and we all agreed that not even there had we seen anything so magnificent as this Wady-el-Ain. * * * Deep shadows were flung across, and blazing sunshine poured down between. " And again, speaking of the rich coloring of the precipices, she says : " The rocks were the most diversified I ever saw. I noted them on the spot as being black, green, crimson, lilac, maroon, yellow, golden, and white. " While green, Broad boughed, and knurled with rampant life, The tamarisk and palm upsprung. — p. 157. Travelers, in alluding to the botany of this region, speak of the palm and tamarisk as the trees generally met with where trees can find sustenance enough to grow. At times there seemed to swell A chime as of some vesper bell ! Familiar to the Briton's ear It seemed. — p. 166. It is well known that such illusory sounds as are here re- ferred to, are often heard on the desert. In " Passages of Eastern Travel, " published in Harper's Magazine for August, 1856, the writer, referring to his approach to Luxor, says : "I know that on that Saturday night, I heard the church bells of my own home sounding over the tossing waves of the Nile. Yes, I heard them. I, too, laughed, when I read in the books of travels of others that they heard such sounds on the desert, but I did not laugh now, for I have learned NOTES. 329 the truth of those sounds. * * * They sounded sweetly — clearly, and I sprang to the door of the cabin, and out into the starry night, and leaned my head forward to listen to their melody. Soft, soft, and sweet they came over the swift river ; clear, rich, and full. There could be no mistaking them. " Perhaps these sounds might have come from the sand of the desert being ruffled by the wind. Hugh Miller and other eminent naturalists describe at least three localities where similar sounds are produced by disturbing the sand. One of these is the beach of a small bay in one of the Hebride Islands, called the Bay of Laig — another, Beg Raivan, in Af- ghanistan, about forty miles from Cabul ; the third, Jabel Na- Jcous, about three miles from the shores of the Gulf of Suez, in Arabia. Jabel Nakous, or the " Mountain of the Bell, " is perhaps the most remarkable of the three. It has been known, says Hugh Miller, "for many ages by the wild Arab of the desert, that there rose at times from this hill, a strange, inexplicable music. As he leads his camel past in the heat of the day, a sound like the first low tones of an iEolian harp stirs the hot, breezeless air. It swells louder and louder in progressive un- dulations, till at length the dry baked earth seems to vibrate under foot, and the startled animal snorts and rears, and struggles to break away. " Mr. Gray of University College, Oxford, according to Sir David Brewster, visited it, and describes the noises he heard, but which he was unable to trace to their producing cause, as " beginning with a low, continuous murmuring sound, which seemed to rise beneath his feet, but which gradually changed into pulsations as it became louder, so as to resemble the striking of a clock. " For a full account of the places where these remarkable 330 NOTES. phenomena have been observed, see Chap. 4th of the " Cruise of the Betsey, " by Hugh Miller. I have no authority for stating that these sounds prognosti- cate the gale known as the kamsin, but it requires no great stretch of the imagination to suppose that when smitten sud- denly by the wind, the desert sands may produce them. But for a peerless Almeh, who Brushed to the wreck-lined shore, and drew Thy cold corse from the billows' strife, And by such stress of heavenly art As only Allah could impart, At length hath won thee back to life ! — p. 169. In a popular work on Egypt, published in London in 1839, now before me, it is stated, that at Cairo, the name by which female singers are designated, signifies a learned woman, ( almeh ), and " many of them are not unworthy of the title, being possessed of knowledge and accomplishments independ- ent of their musical acquirements, and are sometimes em- ployed as private tutors in the harems of the rich. " For ne'er did moonshid's tale express Such form of faultless symmetry, Such matchless grace and loveliness. — p. 170. In the popular work on Egypt, before referred to, the writer, in describing one of the public feasts at Cairo, alludes to the booths where various exhibitions were going on, and says : " At one end of the ring were four moonshids, ( singers of poetry ), and with them a player on a kind of flute called nay." Brow lucid as the henneh's flower. — p. 170. NOTES. 331 The henneh, "beloved of woman, " bears a small but beau- tifully white flower, having an agreeable odor. From the leaves of the plant, the Egyptians make a preparation where- with the women dye their hands and feet, producing a perma- nent orange color. Hair whose glossy jet Would make the kohl itself seem pale. — p. 170. The kohl is a black dye with which Egyptian women tinge their eye-lids in order to heighten the effect of their already black eyes. The dye most approved has for its basis a lead ore brought from Persia. It is laid on with a small bodkin of wood, ivory, or metal ; hence the oriental poets have said that " the mountains of Ispahan have been worn away with a bodkin. " Bismillah! but thus much can tell. — p. 171. All the chapters of the Koran begin with the word Bis- millah, meaning " In the name of God." Hers is the santon's gift to see The wonders of futurity. — p. 171. Santon — a kind of Moslem priest, who formerly followed in the track of armies, sometimes prophesying — and was regarded by the more ignorant as a saint. A tarry short At ancient Ezion Geber's fort. — p. 175. A fortified place spoken of in Biblical writings, at the head of that arm of the Red Sea now known as the Gulf of Akabah. Northward wends The pass El Ghor, adust, and wide, 332- NOTES. And weary, walled on either side With frowning ridges. — p. 175. In Stephens's "Incidents of Travel" I find the following description of the Wady El Ghor : " Standing near the shore of this northern extremity of the Red Sea, I saw before me an immense sandy valley, which, without the aid of geological science, to the eye of common observation and reason, had once been the bottom of a sea or bed of a river. This dreary valley, extending far beyond the reach of the eye, * * * is the great valley of El Ghor, extending from the shores of the Elanitic Gulf to the southern extremity of the Lake Asphaltites or the Dead Sea ; and it was manifest by landmarks of Nature's own providing, that over that plain those seas had once mingled their waters ; or perhaps more probably, before the cities of the plain had been consumed, * * * the Jordan had here rolled its waters." Beneath a lofty colonade In ruined Petra's midnight shade. — p. 183. While ruined palace, temple, shrine, From the eternal mountain hewn. — p. 185. Petra is supposed to be the ancient capital of the Edomites, who, as the Scripture says, made their " dwellings in the rock." It hardly need be said here, that its ruins are among the most wonderful in the world. The little rill Which 'midst the oleanders wound. — p. 201. The plants growing in the gorge of Petra, and some of the ravines of the Wady El Ghor, are oleanders, dwarf acacias, scarlet anemones, red amaryllis, wild oats, red poppies, broom, NOTES 333 wild fig, mallow, tamarisk, blue forget-me-not, and wild geranium. Miss Martineau mentions " thickets of oleanders " about Petra ; and Bayard Taylor speaks of the abundance of scarlet poppies, in some of the more mountainous parts of Syria, sweeping up the acclivities so as to make them appear as though they were on fire. From his hiding place Among the dwarf acacias stole The amazed gazelle, with timid pace And ears raised ; and from gulch and knoll, Where the thick, fiery poppies glowed Like living coals, the partridge strode. — p. 215. In Stephens's "Incidents of Travel," describing his ap- proach to Petra, he says, "It was a beautiful afternoon; gazelles were playing in the valleys, and partridges running wild up the mountains." Other travelers also casually refer to these species of game as abundant in the neighboring regions. But oft within are sumptuous halls. Bedight with every garniture And gild of ornament that art And wealth of fancy can impart, Or untold opulence procure. — p. 226. Describing Damascus, Bayard Taylor says, "We visited the other day the houses of some of the richest Jews, * * The exteriors of the houses are mean ; but after threading a nar- row passage, we emerged into a court rivaling in profusion of ornament and rich contrast of colors one's early idea of the Palace of Aladdin. The floors and fountains are all of mo- saic ; the arches of the liwan glitter with gold, and the walls 22 3 84 NOTES. bewilder the eye with the intricacy of their adornments. In the first house, we were received by the family in a room of precious marbles, with niches in the walls, resembling grottoes of silver stalactites. The cushions of the divan were of the richest silk, and a chandelier of Bohemian crystal hung from the ceiling. Silver narghilehs were brought to us, and coffee was served on heavy silver zerfs." — See "Lands of the Sar- acen." Damascus ! what a tingling zest Of romance, even to the name Pertains! — p. 231. Delicious clime! its proverbs say Three things can charm dull care away — Three — water, verdure, and the grace That sparkles in a lovely face ! These can it boast. — p. 232. Damascus is situated in the midst of a beautiful plain, with the Libanus chain of mountains on one side, and the desert on the other. The Emperor Julian styled it, "the eye of all the East, the sacred and most magnificent Damascus." It has been captured in turn by King David, Tiglath Pileser of Assyria, Sennacherib, the Generals of Alexander, the Komans, the Saracens, Egyptian Mamelukes, Turks, etc. As to modern Damascus, Bayard Taylor in his Lands of the Saracen, says: "When you behokLDamascus from the Sala- hiyeh, the last slope of the Anti-Lebanon, it is the realization of all that you have dreamed of oriental splendor. It is Beauty carried to the Sublime, as I have felt when overlooking some boundless forest of palms within the tropics." Its Barrada With all its wandering wealth of streams, And ever green and blossoming bowers. — p. 232. NOTES. 335 The Barrada is the ancient Pharpar. "Are not Abana and Pharpar, rivers of Damascus, better than all the waters of Israeli " 2 Kings, v. 12. "In a terrible gorge, the river Barrada forces its way to the plain, and its waters, divided into twelve different channels, make all between you and those blue island hills of the desert, one great garden, the boundaries of which your vision can barely distinguish. Its longest diameter cannot be less than twenty miles. You look down on a world of foliage, and fruit, and blossoms, whose hue by contrast with the barren mountains, and the yellow rim of the desert which incloses it, seems brighter than all other gardens in the world. Through its center, following the course of the river, lies Damascus ; a line of white walls topped with domes, and towers, and tall minarets, winding away for miles through the green sea." — Bayard Taylor's "Lands of the Saracen." The Barrada gushes from a ravine of the Anti-Libanus chain of hills, and its waters, after flowing through the plains of Damascus, are lost in a shallow lake on the borders of the desert. How replete With witching melody the song Of the weird bulbul. — p. 235. Bulbul — the Arabic name for nightingale. "What time the ruthless Tamerlane Swept Syria with his demon horde Of horse, and gave to fire and sword The city and its countless souls. — p. 239. Damascus was besieged by Tamerlane, otherwise called Timour, A. D. 1400, who overthrew the city, and put the in- habitants to the sword. 336 NOTES. As if a host if wandering gholes Were on their rounds in quest of prey. — p. 240. Ghole or ghoul — a fabled demon, who, among Eastern na- tions, was supposed to prey upon human bodies. I've at Wescustogo a friend. — p. 269. What is now Yarmouth, in early times was called Wescus- togo, and the name extended to, or was derived from, the stream now known as Royal's River. Pomola hath his wigwam fled. — p. 283. Pomola was an Indian spirit, whose abode was fixed, we believe, on Mt. Katahdin, whence he went forth in storm and tempest — not on the Wampanhegan Ouithna, or White Moun- tains. If 'twere not that the bridge were gone On yonder roaring stream 'twixt here And Harraseeket. — p. 292. Harraseeket was the Indian name of a district now included in Freeport ; and the name still attaches to a stream or inlet of that locality. 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