'Twas on a Mountain, near the Western
An
EN dwelt. A solitary
Built on a jutting crag, o'erhung with weeds,
Mark'd the poor Exile's home. Full ten long
The melancholy wretch had liv'd
By all, save
RY, a lov'd, little
The partner of his sorrows. On the
When Persecution, in the sainted
Of Liberty, spread wide its venom'd pow'r,
The brave,
Saint
RT, fled his Lordly home,
And, with his baby Son, the mountain sought.
Resolv'd to cherish in his bleeding
The secret of his birth,
Ah! birth too
For his now humbled state, from
He taught him, labour's task: He bade him
The dreary day of cold
By patience and by toil. The Summer
Shone on the pillow of his rushy bed;
The noontide, sultry hour, he fearless
On the shagg'd eminence; while the young
Skipp'd, to the cadence of his minstrelsy.
At night young
RY trimm'd the faggot
While oft,
Saint
RT, wove the ample
To snare the finny victim. Oft they
And talk'd, while sullenly the waves would
Dashing the sandy shore. Saint
RT'S
Would swim in tears of fondness, mix'd with joy,
When he observ'd the op'ning harvest
Of promis'd intellect, which
RY'S soul,
Whate'er the subject of their talk, display'd.
Oft, the bold Youth, in question intricate,
Would seek to know the story of his birth;
Oft ask, who bore him: and with curious
Enquire, why he, and only one beside,
Peopled the desart mountain ? Still his
Was slow of answer, and, in words obscure,
Varied the conversation. Still the
Of
RY ponder'd; for, in their lone hut,
A daily journal would Saint
RT
Of his long banishment: and sometimes
Of Friends forsaken,
Kindred, massacred;—Proud mansions, rich domains, and joyous
For ever faded,—lost!
One winter time,'Twas on the Eve of Christmas, the shrill
Swept o'er the stormy main. The boiling
Rose to an altitude so fierce and
That their low hovel totter'd. Oft they
To the rock's margin, and with fearful
Mark'd the vex'd deep, as the slow rising
Gleam'd on the world of waters. 'Twas a
Would make a Stoic shudder!
For,
The wavy mountains, they beheld, alone ,
A
LE
AT, now scarcely visible;
And now not seen at all; or, like a buoy,
Bounding, and buffetting, to reach the shore!
Now the full Moon, in crimson lustre
Upon the outstretch'd Ocean. The black
Flew stiffly on, the wild blast following,
And, as they flew, dimming the angry
With shadows horrible ! Still, the small
Struggled amid the waves, a sombre
Upon the wide domain of howling Death!
Saint
RT sigh'd ! while
RY'S speaking
Alternately the stormy scene
And his low hovel's safety. So past
The hour of midnight,—and, since first they
The solitary scene, no midnight hourE'er seem'd so long and weary.
While they stood,
Their hands fast link'd together, and their
Fix'd on the troublous Ocean,
The breakers, bounding on the rocky shore,
Left the small wreck; and crawling on the
Of the rude crag,—a
AN
RM was seen!
And now he climb'd the foam-wash'd precipice,
And now the slip'ry weeds gave way, while
Descended to the sands: The moon rose high—The wild blast paus'd, and the poor shipwreck'd
Look'd round aghast, when on the frowning
He marked the lonely exiles. Now he
But he was feeble, and his voice was
Amid the din of mingling sounds that
From the wild scene of clamour.
Down the
Saint
ET hurried, boldly venturous,
Catching the slimy weeds, from point to point,
And unappall'd by peril. At the
Of the rude rock, the fainting
Seiz'd on his outstretch'd arm; impatient, wild,
With transport exquisite ! But ere they
The blest exchange of sounds articulate,
A furious billow, rolling on the steep,
Engulph'd them in Oblivion!
On the
Young
RY stood; with palpitating heart,
And fear-struck, e'en to madness ! Now he call'd,
Louder and louder, as the shrill blast blew;
But, mid the elemental strife of sounds,
No human voice gave answer ! The clear
No longer quiver'd on the curling main,
But, mist-encircled, shed a blunted light,
Enough to shew all things that mov'd around,
Dreadful, but indistinctly ! The black
Wav'd, as the night-blast swept them; and
The rocky shore the breakers, sounding
Seem'd like the whisp'ring of a million
Beneath the green-deep mourning.
Four long
The lorn Boy listen'd ! four long tedious
Pass'd wearily away, when, in the
The grey beam coldly glimmer'd. All
Young
RY stood aghast : his Eye wide fix'd;
While his dark locks, uplifted by the
Uncover'd met its fury. On his
Despair sate terrible ! For, mid the woes,
Of poverty and toil, he had not known,
Till then, the horror-giving chearless
Of
AL
DE!
He spoke—he groan'd,
But no responsive voice, no kindred
Broke the dread pause: For now the storm had ceas'd,
And the bright Sun-beams glitter'd on the
Of the green placid Ocean. To his
The lorn Boy hasten'd; there the rushy couch,
The pillow still indented, met his
And fix'd his eye in madness.—From that hourA maniac wild, the Alien Boy has been;
His garb with sea-weeds fring'd, and his wan
The tablet of his mind, disorder'd, chang'd,
Fading, and worn with care. And if, by chance,
A Sea-beat wand'rer from the outstretch'd
Views the lone Exile, and with gen'rous
Hastes to the sandy beach, he
Darts 'mid the cavern'd cliffs, and leaves
To track him, where no footsteps but his own,
Have e'er been known to venture !
ET HE
SA melancholy proof that Man may
All the rude storms of Fate, and still
By the wide world forgotten!
