And Thou pervading Soul of All, Receiving at devotion's call shown, known! While summer's light around them clung. 47. He seemed a more than common man, Whom children passed not heedless by, With graven brow of shapely span, And sudden-moving, pensive eye. 48. Retired and staid was Henry's look, And shrank from men's tumultuous ways; And on the earth as on a book He oft would bend his gaze. 49. But then at sight of bird or flower, Or beam that set the clouds in flame, Or aught that told of joy or power, Upon the inan his genius came. 50. Most flashed his light whene'er he saw The kind and blooming face of Jane, When Love, by its supremest law, Bade care depart, and fears be vain. 51. His Jane was fair to any eye; 52. So childlike young, so gravely sweet, With smiles of some disportive sprite, While blushes clear and fancies fleet Played o'er in rippling waves of light. 53. Whate'er of best thy Sire makes It was, in truth, a simple soul 44. Bear witness! ye consenting saw, And shed from all your seats above, A strength all evil fears to awe, In those two hearts combined by love. 45. At morning oft, and oft at eve, 46. 'Twere worth a thoughtful wish to see A loving pair so calm, so young, PART IV. 1. With bold affection, pure and true, 2. Sometimes amid the glimmering meads They walked in August's genial eve, And marked above the mill-stream reeds The myriad flies their mazes weave. Half-turned the maid, as if to part, Affrighted by the imagin'd pain, choose." Though she, I fear, is young to But Henry pressed her on his heart, And kissed her eyes, and spoke again: 10. Before that eve, it so befell The lovers met beside the tree, And Henry said "'Twere vain to Yet need we not at once decide; tell That I would give all else for thee. 11. 21. "Though this were true that sounds so strange, Perhaps your father's mind may change, And hopes be ours now undescried. |