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 For little loss his guilt, — who dwells in peace, When every arm is needed for the strife!' "When we had all betaken us to rest, Sleepless I lay, and in my mind revolved The high-soul'd warrior's speech. Then Madelon Rose in remembrance; over her the grave Had closed; her sorrows were not register'd In the rolls of fame; but when the tears run down The widow's cheek, shall not her cry be heard In Heaven against the oppressor? Will not God In sunder smite the unmerciful, and break The sceptre of the wicked? — Thoughts like these Possess'd my soul, till at the break of day I slept; nor did my heated brain repose Even then; for visions, sent, as I believe, From the Most High, arose. A high-tower'd town Hemm'd in and girt with enemies, I saw, Where Famine on a heap of carcasses, Half envious of the unutterable feast, Mark'd the gorged raven clog his beak with gore. I turn'd me then to the besieger's camp, And there was revelry: a loud, lewd laugh Burst on mine ear, and I beheld the chiefs Sit at their feast, and plan the work of death. My soul grew sick within me; I look'd up, Reproaching Heaven, — lo! from the clouds an arm As of the avenging Angel was put forth, And from his hand a sword, like lightning, fell.

"From that night I could feel my burden'd soul Heaving beneath incumbent Deity. I sate in silence, musing on the days To come, unheeding and unseeing all Around me, in that dreaminess of thought When every bodily sense is as it slept, And the mind alone is wakeful. I have heard Strange voices in the evening wind; strange forms Dimly discover'd throng'd the twilight air. The neighbors wonder'd at the sudden change; They call'd me crazed; and my dear Uncle, too. Would sit and gaze upon me wistfully, A heaviness upon his aged brow, And in his eye such sorrow, that my heart Sometimes misgave me. I had told him all The mighty future laboring in my breast. But that the hour, methought, not yet was come.

"At length I heard of Orleans, by the foe Wall'd in from human help: thither all thoughts, All hopes were turn'd; that bulwark beaten down, All were the invaders. Then my troubled soul Grew more disturb'd, and shunning every eye, I loved to wander where the woodland shade Was deepest, there on mightiest deeds to brood Of shadowy vastness, such as made my heart Throb loud: anon I paused, and in a state Of half expectance, listen'd to the wind.

"There is a fountain in the forest call'd The Fountain of the Fairies: when a child With a delightful wonder I have heard Tales of the Elfin tribe who on its banks Hold midnight revelry. An ancient oak, The goodliest of the forest, grows beside; Alone it stands, upon a green grass plat, By the woods bounded like some little isle. It ever hath been deem'd their favorite tree; They love to lie and rock upon its leaves, And bask in moonshine. Here the Woodman leads His boy, and showing him the green-sward mark'd With darker circlets, says their midnight dance Hath traced the rings, and bids him spare the tree. Fancy had cast a spell upon the place Which made it holy; and the villagers Would say that never evil thing approach'd Unpunish'd there. The strange and fearful pleasure Which fill'd me by that solitary spring, Ceased not in riper years; and now it woke Deeper delight, and more mysterious awe.

"A blessed spot! Oh, how my soul enjoy'd Its holy quietness, with what delight Escaping from mankind I hasten'd there To solitude and freedom! Thitherward On a spring eve I had betaken me, And there I sat, and mark'd the deep red clouds Gather before the wind — the rising wind, Whose sudden gusts, each wilder than the last, Appear'd to rock my senses. Soon the night Darken'd around, and the large rain-drops fell Heavy; anon tempestuously the gale Swept o'er the wood. Methought the thunder-shower Fell with refreshing coolness on my head. And the hoarse dash of waters, and the rush Of winds that mingled with the forest roar Made a wild music. On a rock I sat; The glory of the tempest fill'd my soul; And when the thunders peal'd, and the long flash Hung durable in heaven, and on my sight Spread the gray forest, memory, thought, were All sense of self annihilate, I seem'd   gone, Diffused into the scene.

"At length a light Approach'd the spring; I saw my Uncle Claude; His gray locks dripping with the midnight storm. He came, and caught me in his arms, and cried, 'My God! my child is safe!'

"I felt his words Pierce in my heart; my soul was overcharged; I fell upon his neck and told him all; was within me; as I felt, I spake, And he believed.

"Ay, Chieftain! and the world Shall soon believe my mission; for the Lord Will raise up indignation and pour on't His wrath, and they shall perish who oppress."

now beneath the horizon westering slow Had sinik the orb of day: o'er all the vale A purple softness spread, save where some tree Its lengthen'd shadow stretch'd, or winding stream Mirror'd the light of Heaven, still traced distinct When twilight dimly shrouded all beside.