Page:Pocahontas, and Other Poems.djvu/30

14 For she who lov'd your ever-varied dyes,

Mingling her sweet tones with your symphonies,

Seeks higher bliss than charms like yours bestow—

A home unchangeable—an angel's wing—

Where is no fading flower, nor lute with jarring string.

.

Another change. The captive's lot grew fair:

A soft illusion with her reveries blent,

New charms dispell'd her solitary care,

And hope's fresh dew-drops gleam'd where'er she went;

Earth seem'd to glow with Eden's purple light,

The fleeting days glanc'd by on pinions bright,

And every hour a rainbow lustre lent;

While, with his tones of music in her ear,

Love's eloquence inspir'd the high-born cavalier.

.

Yet love to her pure breast was but a name

For kindling knowledge, and for taste refin'd,—

A guiding lamp, whose bright mysterious flame

Led on to loftier heights the aspiring mind.

Hence flow'd the idiom of a foreign tongue

All smoothly o'er her lip;—old history flung

Its annal wide, like banner on the wind,

And o'er the storied page, with rapture wild,

A new existence dawn'd on nature's fervent child.