Lays of Ancient Virginia | Page 6

their dark and sombre lines,?Upon the mountain's lower pines:?Come, then, to me, and we will speak,?Sweet thrilling words, and on my cheek,?Thy lip shall feed till we expire,?In glowing love's consuming fire."?"Yes, I will come, maid of Peru!?Though Fate, yon soaring Andes threw,?Between my wish and thee my love,?That lofty barrier I'd remove;?And press to thee with Condor's flight,?To thee, to love, to life's delight.?N'er since these eyes beheld the day,?Have they seen aught, whose potent sway,?Could bend my will, as thou, dear maid!?Sweet star, amid my spirit's shade.?Not all the wealth that gleams around?Within thy country's magic bound,?And fills my world with loudest fame,?Of this new world's most wondrous name,?Sways more with me than idle dream,?Or transient bubbles on a stream,?Compared, Iola! with thy power;--?And I will come to thy sweet bower."

"Iola! art thou in thy bower,?At this most dear, appointed hour??On fleetest pinions I have come,?To meet thee mid this richest bloom,?Thy Inca father's garden flowers,?Whose odors fall like balmy showers;?But, of them all, thou art the flower?Who hast the most delightful power,?And of the wondrous birds that sing?Amid this garden's blooming spring;?Thou art the loveliest; and thy voice?Most meet to bid my soul rejoice."?Iola spoke not in reply;?But gazed on him with vacant eye:?Still was she silent as the grave,?O'er those we love but could not save;?And she seemed calm as tropic sea,?When its hushed waves from winds are free.?Gonzalo wondered; why no word,?Came from that lip that mocked the bird?Of her own land, in melody,?When warbling from his cocoa tree.?But why, O gem of rich Peru,?Thy silence strange, thy aspect new??What envious power has bound thy voice,?Which erst could bid my soul rejoice.?Oh! surely some malignant sprite?From realms of most infernal night,?Has taken thy angel voice away;--?But speak, Iola, speak, I pray!?Her tears gushed forth like tropic rain,?That widely floods the blooming plain;?And thus began, "Gonzalo! thou?Deceived'st me--but I know thee now.?Ask me not how I know it sooth;?Enough, I know the bitter truth.?I felt forebodings of this hour;?It did my happiest thoughts o'er power,?With a dark weight; but then I thought,?'Twas by my foolish fancy wrought.?'Twas like the omen which precedes?The earthquake when the summer reeds?Are strangely still, until the shock?The central earth shall wildly rock.?Thou dost not love me, child of Spain!?Thy heart can love no thing but gain;?The paltry dust I tread above,?To thee, is more than woman's love.?My love is vain, and life is less?Since lost my hope of happiness?Look from this garden;--far below?Yon Andes' sides with verdure glow,?But far on high, the icy chill?Of winter glitters, glitters still:?I am that lonely verdure--thou?That mountain's cold, unchanging brow.?I'll ne'er upbraid thee--no--oh no!?For love is kind, in deepest woe,?I love thee still, and will till Death,?Shall win my love with living breath.?This even, farewell--yes, yes, adieu!?No years our meeting can renew.?Would that when round these royal bowers,?I played in childhood's happy hours,?The Condor bird had borne me high,?On his huge pinions through the sky,?Upon yon mountain's snowy crest,?To hush his high and hungry nest.?Farewell, Gonzalo! fly with speed,?Leave shade and silence to my need."

There was a cry of terror in the hall?Of Peru's monarch, and a startling call;?But no reply--Iola sure was gone;?Yet none knew why or whither she had flown.?Her Inca-father put his crown aside,?And filled the temple with loud prayer--a tide?Of lamentation rolled along the fair?And blooming realm; heaven wore a dim despair.?She ne'er was found; but how or when she died?None knew; by her own hand; or if she cried,?Vainly, in wild beasts' clutch;--but ne'er before?Din wail so wild resound along the shore?Of fair Peru; her father lived not long,?After this chord was snapped in his life's song.
THE HOLY LADY.
Oh, Heaven hath given to earth some souls,
Of rarest loveliness,?Whose being's constant current rolls,
The wretched still to bless.
Well wishing Heaven hath given to earth,
Some hearts of purest fire,?To renovate our sinful birth,
And raise our low desire.
The Holy Lady did not go
Afar, by sea or land,?But ministered to sighing wo,
And suffering near at hand.
'Twas sweet to see the Lady fair,
Each blessed sabbath morn,?Wear such a sweetly solemn air,
Of bright devotion, born.
'Twas sweet to see her bow at eve,
On lowly bended knee,?To pray, and sadly, sweetly grieve,
For man's perversity.
But sure were we that city fine,
Wherein this Lady dwelt,?Was bettered by a power divine,
And heavenly prompting felt.
When she was old, her heart not cold,
A youthful beauty lay,?A light most wondrous to behold!
Upon her tresses gray.
The charm of goodness does not fade,
Like natural beauty's flower,?But blooms in glory undecayed,
And death-defying power.
TIME AND ETERNITY.
The darkness falls on wood and field,
On lofty peak, on silent sea,?The infant Moon and Planets yield
A faint and feeble brilliancy.
Cans't thou behold the look and shape
Of mount and main, of wold and wood??The morrow's sun, o'er sea and cape,
Will show them out, both plain and good.
Time darkens all to mortal eyes
Save what faint