The moon, the glory of the sun, And streams that murmur as they run, He was a lovely Youth! I guess The panther in the wilderness Was not so fair as he; And when he chose to sport and play, No dolphin ever was so gay Upon the tropic sea. Among the Indians he had fought, And with him many tales he brought Such tales as told to any maid By such a Youth, in the green shade, He told of girls a happy rout!. Who quit their fold with dance and shout, To gather strawberries all day long; When daylight is gone down. He spake of plants that hourly change Their blossoms, through a boundless range Of intermingling hues; With budding, fading, faded flowers, They stand the wonder of the bowers From morn to evening dews. He told of the magnolia, spread High as a cloud, high over head! and her spire; cypress The - Of flowers that with one scarlet gleam The Youth of green savannas spake, Of islands, that together lie "How pleasant," then he said, "it were, A fisher or a hunter there, In sunshine or in shade To wander with an easy mind; And build a household fire, and find A home in every glade! "What days and what bright years! Ahme! Our life were life indeed, with thee So passed in quiet bliss, And all the while," said he, "to know That we are in a world of woe, On such an earth as this!" And then he sometimes interwove "For there,” said he, “are spun Around the heart such tender ties, That our own children to our eyes "Sweet Ruth! and could you go with me My helpmate in the woods to be, Our shed at night to rear; Or run, my own adopted bride, And drive the flying deer! "Beloved Ruth!"- No more he said. The wakeful Ruth at midnight shed A solitary tear: She thought again, and did agree, With him to sail across the sea, And drive the flying deer. "And now, as fitting is and right, We in the church our faith will plight, A husband and a wife." Even so they did; and I may say That to sweet Ruth that happy day Was more than human life. Through dream and vision did she sink, That on those lonesome floods, But, as you have before been told, This Stripling, sportive, gay, and bold, So beautiful, through savage lands The wind, the tempest roaring high, For him, a Youth to whom was given Whatever in those climes he found A kindred impulse, seemed allied To his own powers, and justified The workings of his heart. Nor less, to feed voluptuous thought, The beauteous forms of nature wrought, Fair trees and gorgeous flowers; The breezes their own languor lent; The stars had feelings, which they sent Into those favored bowers. Yet, in his worst pursuits, I ween Pure hopes of high intent : For passions linked to forms so fair And stately, needs must have their share Of noble sentiment. But ill he lived, much evil saw, Those wild men's vices he received, His genius and his moral frame Were thus impaired, and he became A Man who without self-control And yet he with no feigned delight What could he less than love a Maid Whose heart with so much nature played? So kind and so forlorn! Sometimes, most earnestly, he said, 66 "O Ruth! I have been worse than dead; |