Page:Hemans in Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine 35 1834.pdf/8



But by my wrongs, and by my wrath, To-morrow Oroonoko's breath That fires yon Heaven with storms of death, Shall guide me to the foe! Indian Song in "Gertrude of Wyoming."

Herrmann. Was that the light from some lone swift canoe Shooting across the waters?–No, a flash From the night's first quick fire-fly, lost again In the deep bay of Cedars. Not a bark Is on the wave; no rustle of a breeze Comes through the forest. In this new, strange world, Oh! how mysterious, how eternal, seems The mighty melancholy of the woods! The Desert's own great spirit, infinite! Little they know, in mine own father-land, Along the castled Rhine, or e'en amidst The wild Harz mountains, or the silvan glades Deep in the Odenwald, they little know Of what is solitude! In hours like this, There, from a thousand nooks, the cottage-hearths Pour forth red light through vine-hung lattices, To guide the peasant, singing cheerily, On the home-path;—while round his lowly porch, With eager eyes awaiting his return, The clustered faces of his children shine To the clear harvest-moon. Be still, fond thoughts Melting my spirit's grasp from heavenly hope By your vain earthward yearnings. O my God! Draw me still nearer, closer unto Thee, Till all the hollow of these deep desires May with thyself be filled!—Be it enough At once to gladden and to solemnize My lonely life, if for thine altar here In this dread temple of the wilderness, By prayer, and toil, and watching, I may win The offering of one heart, one human heart, Bleeding, repenting, loving! Hark! a step, An Indian tread! I know the stealthy sound— 'Tis on some quest of evil, through the grass Gliding so serpent-like. He comes forward and meets an Indian warrior armed. Enonio, is it thou? I see thy form Tower stately through the dusk; yet scarce mine eye Discerns thy face. Enonio. My father speaks my name. Herrmann. Are not the hunters from the chase returned? The night-fires lit? Why is my son abroad?