And like an haughty Huntress of the woods
She moved yet sure she was a gentle maid!
And in each motion her most innocent soul
Beamed forth so brightly, that who saw would say
Guilt was a thing impossible in her!

Nor idly would have said-for she had lived
In this bad World, as in a place of Tombs
And touched not the pollutions of the Dead.

'Twas the cold season when the Rustic's eye From the drear desolate whiteness of his fields Rolls for relief to watch the skiey tints

And clouds slow varying their huge imagery;
When now, as she was wont, the healthful Maid
Had left her pallet ere one beam of day
Slanted the fog-smoke. She went forth alone
Urged by the indwelling angel-guide, that oft,
With dim inexplicable sympathies

Disquieting the Heart, shapes out Man's course
To the predoomed adventure. Now the ascent
She climbs of that steep upland, on whose top
The Pilgrim-Man, who long since eve had watched
The alien shine of unconcerning Stars,
Shouts to himself, there first the Abbey-lights
Seen in Neufchatel's vale; now slopes adown

The winding sheep-track vale-ward: when, behold

In the first entrance of the level road

An unattended Team! The foremost horse

Lay with stretched limbs; the others, yet alive
But stiff and cold, stood motionless, their manes
Hoar with the frozen night-dews. Dismally
The dark-red down now glimmered; but its gleams
Disclosed no face of man. The maiden paused,
No voice replied.

Then hailed who might be near.

From the thwart wain at length there reached her ear

A sound so feeble that it almost seemed

Distant and feebly, with slow effort pushed,

A miserable man crept forth his limbs

The silent frost had eat, scathing like fire.
Faint on the shafts he rested. She, mean time,
Saw crowded close beneath the coverture
A mother and her children-lifeless all,
Yet lovely! not a lineament was marred—
Death had put on so slumber-like a form!
It was a piteous sight; and one, a babe,
The crisp milk frozen on its innocent lips,
Lay on the woman's arm, its little hand
Stretched on her bosom.

Mutely questioning,

The Maid gazed wildly at the living wretch.
He, his head feebly turning, on the group

VOL. I.

Looked with a vacant stare, and his eye spoke

The drowsy calm that steals on worn-out anguish.
She shuddered: but, each vainer pang subdued,
Quick disentangling from the foremost horse
The rustic bands, with difficulty and toil

The stiff cramped team forced homeward. There arrived,
Anxiously tends him she with healing herbs,

And weeps and prays-but the numb power of Death
Spreads o'er his limbs; and ere the noon-tide hour,
The hovering spirits of his Wife and Babes
Hail him immortal! Yet amid his pangs,
With interruptions long from ghastly throes,
His voice had faltered out this simple tale.

The Village, where he dwelt an Husbandman,
By sudden inroad had been seized and fired
Late on the yester-evening. With his wife
And little ones he hurried his escape.

They saw the neighbouring Hamlets flame, they heard
Uproar and shrieks! and terror-struck drove on
Through unfrequented roads, a weary way!

But saw nor house nor cottage. All had quenched Their evening hearth-fire: for the alarm had spread. The air clipt keen, the night was fanged with frost, And they provisionless! The weeping wife

Ill hushed her children's moans; and still they moaned,

Till Fright and Cold and Hunger drank their life. They closed their eyes in sleep, nor knew 'twas Death. He only, lashing his o'er-wearied team,

Gained a sad respite, till beside the base

Of the high hill his foremost horse dropped dead.
Then hopeless, strengthless, sick for lack of food,
He crept beneath the coverture, entranced,
Till wakened by the maiden.-Such his tale.

Ah! suffering to the height of what was suffered,
Stung with too keen a sympathy, the Maid
Brooded with moving lips, mute, startful, dark!
And now her flushed tumultuous features shot
Such strange vivacity, as fires the eye

Of misery Fancy-crazed! and now once more
Naked, and void, and fixed, and all within
The unquiet silence of confused thought
And shapeless feelings. For a mighty hand
Was strong upon her, till in the heat of soul
To the high hill-top tracing back her steps,
Aside the beacon, up whose smouldered stones
The tender ivy-trails crept thinly, there,
Unconscious of the driving element,

Yea, swallowed up in the ominous dream, she sate
Ghastly as broad-eyed Slumber! a dim anguish

Breathed from her look! and still with pant and sob, Inly she toil'd to flee, and still subdued,

Felt an inevitable Presence near.

Thus as she toiled in troublous ecstasy, An horror of great darkness wrapt her round, And a voice uttered forth unearthly tones, Calming her soul,-" O Thou of the Most High "Chosen, whom all the perfected in Heaven "Behold expectant

[The following fragments were intended to form part of the Poem when finished.]

"Maid beloved of Heaven!

(To her the tutelary Power exclaimed)

"Of CHAOS the adventurous progeny "Thou seest; foul missionaries of foul sire, "Fierce to regain the losses of that hour "When Love rose glittering, and his gorgeous wings "Over the abyss fluttered with such glad noise, "As what time after long and pestful calms, "With slimy shapes and miscreated life "Poisoning the vast Pacific, the fresh breeze "Wakens the merchant-sail uprising. Night "An heavy unimaginable moan