The gradual landscape open'd to his view; From Nature's face the veil of mist withdraw,

And left, in clear and purple light reveal'd, The radiant river, and the tented field; The black pine-forest, in whose girdle lay The patriot phalanx, hemm'd in close array; The verdant champaign narrowing to the north,

Whence from their dusky quarters sallied forth

The proud invaders, early roused to fight, Tribe after tribe emerging into light; Whose shields and lances, in the golden beams,

Flash'd o'er the restless scene their flickering gleams,

As when the breakers catch the morning-glow,
And ocean rolls in living fire below:
So round the unbroken border of the wood,
The Giants pour'd their army like a flood,
Eager to force the covert of their foe,
And lay the last defence of Eden low.

From that safe eminence, absorb'd in thought,

Even till the wind the shout of legions brought,

He gazed, his heart recoil'd,—he turn'd his head,

And o'er the southern hills his journey sped.

Who was the fugitive?-in infancy A youthful Mother's only hope was he, Whose spouse and kindred, on a festal day, Precipitate destruction swept away: Earth trembled,open'd, and entomb'd them all; She saw them sinking, heard their voices call Beneath the gulph,—and agonized, aghast, On the wild verge of eddying ruin cast, Felt in one pang, at that convulsive close, A Widow's anguish, and a Mother's throes; A Babe sprang forth, an inauspicious birth, Where all had perish'd that she loved on

In him, while fond imagination view'd Husband and parents, brethren, friends re new'd.

Each vanish'd look, each well-rememberi

grace,

That pleased in them, she sought in Java's face;

For quick his eye and changeable its ray. As the sun glancing through a vernal day: And like the lake, by storm or moonligh

seen,

With darkening furrows or cerulean mien. His countenance, the mirror of his breast The calm or trouble of his soul express'd.

As years enlarged his form, in moody hours,

His mind betray'd its weakness with in powers;

Alike his fairest hopes and strangest fears Were nursed in silence, or divulged with tears;

The fulness of his heart repress'd his tongue, Though none might rival Javan when he sung.

He loved, in lonely indolence reclined,
To watch the clouds, and listen to the wind;
But from the north, when snow and tempest

came,

His nobler spirit mounted into flame; With stern delight he roam'd the howling woods,

Or hung in ecstasy o'er headlong floods. Meanwhile excursive fancy long'd to view The world, which yet by fame alone he knew:

The joys of freedom were his daily theme, Glory the secret of his midnight-dream; That dream he told not; though his heart would ache,

His home was precious for his mother's sake.

With her the lowly paths of peace he ran, His guardian-angel, till he verged to man; But when her weary eye could watch no

Yet no delight the Minstrel's bosom knew, None save the tones that from his harp he drew,

And the warm visions of a wayward mind, Whose transient splendour left a gloom behind,

Frail as the clouds of sunset, and as fair,
Pageants of light, resolving into air.
The world, whose charms his young affec-
tions stole,

He found too mean for an immortal soul; Wound with his life, through all his feelings wrought,

Death and eternity possess'd his thought;
Remorse impell'd him, unremitting care
Harass'd his path, and stung him to despair.
Still was the secret of his griefs unknown,
Amidst the universe he sigh'd alone;
The fame he follow'd, and the fame he found,
Heal'd not his heart's immedicable wound;
Admired, applauded, crown'd, where'er he
roved,

The Bard was homeless, friendless,unbeloved.
All else that breathed below the circling sky,
Were link'd to earth by some endearing tie;
He only, like the ocean-weed uptorn,
And loose along the world of waters borne,
Was cast companionless, from wave to wave,
On life's rough sea,-and there was none to

west;

There from the camp retiring, he pursued His journey to the Patriarchs' solitude. This son of peace no martial armour wore, A scrip for food, a staff in hand he bore; Flaxen his robe; and o'er his shoulder hung, Broad as a warrior's shield, his harp unstrung,

A shell of tortoise, exquisitely wrought With hieroglyphics of embodied thought; Jubal himself enchased the polished frame; And Javan won it in the strife for fame, Among the sons of Music, when their Sire To his victorious skill adjudged the lyre.

Awhile he stood, with rumination pale, Casting an eye of sadness o'er the vale, When, suddenly abrupt, spontaneous prayer Burst from his lips for One who sojourn'd there;

For One, whose cottage, far appearing, drew,

Even from his Mother's grave, his transient view; One, whose unconscious smiles were wont to dart Ineffable emotion through his heart: A nameless sympathy, more sweet, more

dear

Than friendship, solaced him when she was near,

And well he guess'd, while yet a timorous boy,

That Javan's artless songs were Zillah's joy.
But when ambition, with a fiercer flame
Than untold love, had fired his soul for fame,
This infant passion, cherish'd yet represt,
Lived in his pulse, but died within his breast;
For oft in distant lands, when hope beat high,
Westward he turn'd his eager glistening eye,
And gazed in spirit on her absent form,
Fair as the moon emerging through the
storm,
Till sudden, strange, bewildering horrors
cross'd
His thought,
Even then, when melancholy numb'd his
brain,
And life itself stood still in every vein,
While his cold, quivering lips sent vows
above,

and every glimpse of joy was

lost.

-Never to curse her with his bitter love!
His heart, espoused with hers, in secret sware
To hold its truth unshaken by despair:
The vows dispersed that from those lips were

borne,

But never, never was that heart forsworn; Throughout the world the charm of Zillah's name

Repell'd the touch of every meaner flame.
Jealous and watchful of the Sex's wiles,
He trembled at the light of Woman's smiles!
So turns the mariner's mistrusting eye
From proud Orion bending through the sky,
Beauteous and terrible, who shines afar,
At once the brightest and most baneful star.

'Twas noon, when Javan climb'd the dering hill, By many an old remembrance hallow'd still, Whence he beheld,by sloping woods enclosed, The hamlet where his Parent's dust reposed, His home of happiness in early years, And still the home of all his hopes and fears, When from ambition struggling to break free, He mused on joys and sorrows yet to be.

Or for a name on earth, to quit the prize
Of immortality beyond the skies.
Perplex'd his wavering choice: when Con-
science fail'd,

Love rose against the World, and Love prevail'd;

Passion, in aid of Virtue, conquer'd Pride, And Woman won the heart to Heaven denied.

CANTO IL

STEEP the descent, and wearisome the way; The twisted boughs forbade the light of day;

No breath from heaven refresh'd the sultry gloom,

The arching forest seem'd one pillar'd tomb;
Upright and tall the trees of ages grow,
While all is loneliness and waste below;
There, as the massy foliage, far aloof
Display'd a dark impenetrable roof,
So, gnarl'd,and rigid, claspt and interwound,
An uncouth maze of roots emboss'd the
ground:

Midway beneath the sylvan wild assum'd
A milder aspect,shrubs and flowerets bloom'd;
Openings of sky, and little plots of green,
And showers of sun-beams through the leaves

were seen.

Awhile the traveller halted at the place, Where last he caught glimpse of Zillah's face,

One lovely eve, when in that calm retreat They met, as they were often wont to meet, And parted, not as they were wont to part, With gay regret, but heaviness of heart; Though Javan named for his return the night,

When the new moon had roll'd to full-orb'd light. She stood, and gazed through tears, that forced their way, Oft as from steep to steep, with fond delay, Leseening at every view, he turn'd his head, Hail'd her with weaker voice, then forward sped.

From that sad hour, she saw his face no

more

In Eden's woods, or on Euphrates' shore: Moons wax'd and waned; to her no hope appear'd,

Who much his death, but more his falsehood

fear'd.

New, while he paused, the lapse of years forgot, Remembrance eyed her lingering near the spot. Onward he hasten'd; all his bosom burn'd, As if that eve of parting were return'd;

And she, with silent tenderness of woe,
Clung to his heart, and would not let himga
Sweet was the scene! apart the cedars stood
A sunny islet open'd in the wood;
With vernal tints the wild-briar-thickn
glows,

For here the desert flourish'd as the rose;
From sapling trees, with lucid foliage crown't
Gay lights and shadows twinkled on the
ground;

Up the tall stems luxuriant creepers run To hang their silver blossoms in the sun; Deep velvet verdure clad the turf beneath. Where trodden flowers their richest odoan

Recall her look, when at the altar's side She seal'd her promise, and became thy bride; Such were to Javan Zillah's form and face, The flower of meekness on a stem of grace; O, she was all that Youth of Beauty deems, All that to Love the loveliest object seems!

Moments there are, that, in their sudden flight,

Bring the slow mysteries of years to light; Javan, in one transporting instant, knew, That all he wish'd, and all he fear'd was true; For while the harlot-world his soul possess'd Love seem'd a crime in his apostate breast; How could he tempt her innocence to share His poor ambition, and his fix'd despair! But now the phantoms of a wandering brain, And wounded spirit, cross'd his thoughts in vain:

Past sins and follies, cares and woes forgot, Peace, virtue, Zillah, seem'd his present lot; Where'er he look'd, around him or above, All was the pledge of Truth, the work of Love,

At whose transforming hand, where last they stood,

Had sprung that lone memorial in the wood.

Thus on the slumbering maid while Javan gazed,

With quicker swell her hidden bosom raised The shadowy tresses, that profusely shed Their golden wreaths from her reclining head;

A deeper crimson mantled o'er her cheek, Her close lip quiver'd, as in act to speak, While broken sobs, and tremors of unrest, The inward trouble of a dream express'd: At length, amidst imperfect murmurs, fell The name of “Javan!” and a low "farewell!" Tranquil again, her cheek resumed its hue, And soft as infancy her breath she drew.

When Javan's ear those startling accents thrill'd,

Wonder and ecstacy his bosom fill'd; But quick compunction humbler feelings wrought,

He blush'd to be a spy on Zillah's thought; He turn'd aside; within the neighbouring brake,

Resolved to tarry till the nymph awake.
There, as in luxury of thought reclined,
A calm of tenderness composed his mind;
His stringless harp upon the turf was thrown,
And on a pipe of most mellifluous tone,
Framed by himself, the musing Minstrel
play'd,

To charm the slumberer, cloister'd in the shade.

Jubal had taught the lyre's responsive string,

Beneath the rapture of his touch to sing;

And bade the trumpet wake, with bolder breath,

The joy of battle in the field of death;
But Javan first, whom pure affection fired,
With Love's clear eloquence the flute
inspired;

At once obedient to the lip and hand,
It utter'd every feeling at command.
Light o'er the stops his airy fingers flew,
A spirit spoke in every tone they drew;
'Twas now the sky-lark on the wings of

morn,

Now the night-warbler leaning on her thorn;

Anon through every pulse the music stole, And held sublime communion with the soul, Wrung from the coyest breast the unprison'd sigh,

And kindled rapture in the coldest eye.

Thus on his dulcet pipe while Javan play'd, Within her bower awoke the conscious maid; She, in her dream, by varying fancies crost, Had hail'd her wanderer found, and mourn'd him lost:

In one wild vision, 'midst a land unknown,
By a dark river, as she sat alone,
Javan beyond the stream dejected stood;
He spied her soon, and leapt into the flood;
The thwarting current urged him down its

course,

But Love repell'd it with victorious force; She ran to help him landing, where at length He struggled up the bank with failing strength;

She caught his hand;-when, downward from the day,

A water-monster dragg'd the youth away; She follow'd headlong, but her garments bore Her form, light-floating, till she saw no more: | For suddenly the dream's delusion changed, And through a blooming wilderness she ranged:

Alone she seem'd, but not alone she walk'd,
Javan, invisible, beside her talk'd.
He told, how he had journied many a year
With changing seasons in their swift career,
Danced with the breezes in the bowers of

morn,

Slept in the valley where new moons are born,

Rode with the planets, on their golden cars,
Round the blue world inhabited by stars,
And, bathing in the sun's crystalline streams,
Became etherial spirit in the beams,
Whence were his lineaments, from mortal
sight,

Absorb'd in pure transparency of light;
But now, his pilgrimage of glory past,
In Eden's vale he sought repose at last.
-The voice was mystery to Zillah's ear,
Not speech, nor song, yet full, melodious,
clear;

No sounds of winds or waters, birds or bees,
Were e'er so exquisitely tuned to please.

his breast.

Zillah, who deem'd the strange illusion fled,
Now from the laurel-arbour shew'd her head,
Her eye quick-glancing round, as if in
thought,
Recoiling from the object that she sought:
By slow degrees, to Javan in the shade,
The emerging nymph her perfect shape
display'd.

Time had but touch'd her form to finer grace,
Years had but shed their favours on her face,
While secret Love, and unrewarded Truth,
Like cold clear dew upon the rose of youth,
Gave to the springing flower a chasten'd
bloom,

And shut from rifling winds its coy perfume.

Words cannot paint the wonder of her look, When once again his pipe the Minstrel took, And soft in under-tones began to play, Like the caged woodlark's low-lamenting lay; Then loud and shrill, by stronger breath impell'd,

To higher strains the undaunted music swell'd, Till new-born echoes through the forest rang, And birds, at noon, in broken slumbers sang. Bewildering transport, infantine surprise, Throbb'd in her bosom, sparkled in her eyes, O'er every feature every feeling shone, Her colour changed as Javan changed his tone;

While she between the bower and brake entranced,

Alternately retreated or advanced; Sometimes the lessening cadence seem'd to fly, Then the full melody came rolling nigh; She shrunk, or follow'd still, with eye and feet,

Afraid to lose it, more afraid to meet;