33. More cautious when more certain of the trace In silence they proceed; not like a crew Of jovial hunters, who the joyous chase With hound and horn in open field pursue, Cheering their way with jubilant halloo, And hurrying forward to their spoil desired, The panting game before them, full in view: Humaner thoughts this little band inspired, Yet with a hope as high their gentle hearts were fired. 34. Nor is their virtuous hope devoid of fear; A race to whom a stranger is a foe, Who not for friendly words, nor proffer'd show Of gifts, will peace or parley entertain. If by such hands their blameless blood should flow To serve the Lamb who for their sins was slain, Blessed indeed their lot, for so to die is gain! 35. Them thus pursuing where the track may lead, A human voice arrests upon their way; They stop, and thither whence the sounds proceed, All eyes are turn'd in wonder, . . . not dismay, ... For sure such sounds might charm all fear away; Ever pour'd forth so wild a strain of melody. 36. The voice which through the ringing forest floats A modulated sequence loud and shrill With that far-piercing power of melody resound. 37. In mute astonishment attent to hear, As if by some enchantment held, they stood, To check all speech or step that might intrude The Father gently moved toward the sound, Treading with quiet feet upon the grassy ground. 38. Anon advancing thus the trees between, A heavier heart than his it had beguiled The strains which she had learnt from all sweet birds of spring. 39. For these had been her teachers, these alone; 1 At length into a descant of her own And now as blithe as bird in vernal bower, 40. In joy had she begun the ambitious song, As if the voice exulted there to dwell; That with the music of its dying strain 41. It might be deem'd some dim presage possess'd For what thou losest in thy native shade Only one change, and it will not be long delay'd! 42. When now the Father issued from the wood Like one entranced, beholding him, she stood; Wherefore he came ; his garb and beard she knew; All that her mother heard had then indeed been true. 43. Nor was the Father fill'd with less surprise; For in her beauty Mooma such might seem, Being less a child of earth than like a poet's dream. 44. No art of barbarous ornament had scarr'd And stain❜d her virgin limbs, or 'filed her face; Nor ever yet had evil passion marr'd In her sweet countenance the natural grace Of innocence and youth; nor was there trace Of sorrow, or of hardening want and care. Strange was it in this wild and savage place, Which seem'd to be for beasts a fitting lair, Thus to behold a maid so gentle and so fair. 45. Across her shoulders was a hammock flung, The open meshes, when she moves, display Even for excess of joy, with eager cries 46. At that unwonted call with quicken'd pace The matron hurried thither, half in fear. How strange to Monnema a stranger's face! How strange it was a stranger's voice to hear, How strangely to her disaccustom'd ear Came even the accents of her native tongue! But when she saw her countrymen appear, Tears for that unexpected blessing sprung, And once again she felt as if her heart were young. 47. Soon was her melancholy story told, And think they hear his step, and chidehis long delay |