33. This hope supported Mooma, hand in hand When with Yeruti at the grave she stood. Less even now of death they understand Than of the joys eternal that ensued ; The bliss of infinite beatitude To them had been their teacher's favourite theme, Wherewith their hearts so fully were imbued,

That it the sole reality might seem, Life, death, and all things else, a shadow or a dream.

34. Yea, so possest with that best hope were they, That if the heavens had opened overhead, And the Archangel with his trump that day To judgement had convoked the quick and dead, They would have heard thesummons not with dread, But in the joy of faith that knows no fear; Come Lord! come quickly! would this pair have said,

And thou O Queen of men and Angels dear, Lift us whom thou hast loved into thy happy sphere!

35. They wept not at the grave, though overwrought With feelings there as if the heart would break. Some haply might have deem'd they suffer'd not; Yet they who look”d upon that Maiden meek Might see what deep emotion blanched her cheek. An inward light there was which fill’d her eyes, And told, more forcibly than words could speak,

That this disruption of her earliest ties Had shaken inind and frame in all their faculties,

It was not passion only that disturb’d
Her gentle nature thus; it was not grief;
Nor human feeling by the effort curb’d
Of some misdeeming duty, when relief
Were surely to be found, albeit brief,
If sorrow at its springs might freely flow;
Nor yet repining, stronger than belief

In its first force, that shook the Maiden so, Though these alone might that frail fabric overthrow.

37. The seeds of death were in her at that hour, Soonwas their quick’ning and their growth display'd; Thenceforth she droop'd and wither'd like a flower, Which when it flourish'd in its native shade Some child to his own garden hath convey'd, And planted in the sun, to pine away. Thus was the gentle Mooma seen to fade,

Not under sharp disease, but day by day Losing the powers of life in visible decay.

38. The sunny hue that tinged her cheek was gone, A deathy paleness settled in its stead; The light of joy which in her eyes had shone, Now like a lamp that is no longer fed Grew dim ; but when she raised her heavy head Some proffer'd help of kindness to partake, Those feeble eyes a languid lustre shed,

And her sad smile of thankfulness would wake Grief even in callous hearts for that sweet sufferer's


How had Yeruti borne to see her fade?
But he was spared the lamentable sight,


the bed of sickness laid. Joy of his heart, and of his eyes the light Had Mooma been to him, his soul's delight, On whom his mind for ever was intent, His darling thought by day, his dream by night,

The playmate of his youth in mercy sent, With whom his life had past in peacefullest content,

Well was it for the youth, and well for her,
As there in placid helplessness she lay,
He was not present with his love to stir
Emotions that might shake her feeble clay,
And rouse up in her heart a strong array
Of feelings, hurtful only when they bind
To earth the soul that soon must pass away.

But this was spared them; and no pain of mind To trouble her had she, instinctively resign'd.


Nor was there wanting to the sufferers aught
Of careful kindness to alleviate
The affliction ; for the universal thought
In that poor town was of their sad estate,
And what might best relieve or mitigate
Their case, what help of nature or of art;
And many were the prayers compassionate

That the good Saints their healing would impart, Breathed in that maid's behalf from many a tender


And vows were made for her, if vows might save;
She for herself the while preferr'd no prayer ;
For when she stood beside her Mother's grave,
Her earthly hopes and thoughts had ended there.
Her only longing now was, free as air
From this obstructive flesh to take her flight
For Paradise, and seek her Mother there,

And then regaining her beloved sight
Rest in the eternal sense of undisturb’d delight.

43. Her heart was there, and there she felt and knew That soon full surely should her spirit be. And who can tell what foretastes might ensue To one, whose soul, from all earth's thraldom free, Was waiting thus for immortality ? Sometimes she spake with short and hurried breath As if some happy sight she seem'd to see,

While in the fulness of a perfect faith Even with a lover's hope she lay and look'd for death.

44. I said that for herself the patient maid Preferr’d no prayer; but oft her feeble tongue And feebler breath a voice of praise essay'd; And duly when the vesper bell was rung, Her evening hymn in faint accord she sung So piously, that they who gathered round Awe-stricken on her heavenly accents hung,

As though they thought it were no mortal sound, Butthat the place whereon they stood was holy ground.

45. At such an hour when Dobrizhoffer stood Beside her bed, oh! how unlike, he thought, This voice to that which ringing through the wood Had led him to the secret bower he sought! And was it then for this that he had brought That harmless household from their native shade? Death had already been the mother's lot;

And this fair Mooma, was she form’d to fade So soon,... sosoon mustshe in earth's cold lap belaid?

46. Yet he had no misgiving at the sight; And wherefore should he ? he had acted well, And deeming of the ways of God aright, Knew that to such as these, whate'er befell Must needs for them be best. But who could dwell Unmoved


the fate of one so young, So blithesome late ? What marvel if tears fell,

From that good man as over her he hung, And that the prayers he said came faltering from his tongue !

47. She saw him weep,

and she could understand The cause thus tremulously that made him speak. By his emotion moved she took his hand; A gleam of pleasure o'er her pallid cheek Past, while she look'd at him with meaning meek, And for a little while, as loth to part, Detaining him, her fingers lank and weak,

Play'd with their hold ; then letting him depart Shegave him a slow smile that touch'd him to the heart.

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