Among the Indians he had fought, And with him many tales he brought Of pleasure and of fear;
Such tales as told to any maid
By such a Youth, in the green shade, Were perilous to hear.
He told of girls-a happy rout ! Who quit their fold with dance and shout, Their pleasant Indian town, To gather strawberries all day long; Returning with a choral song 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! The cypress and her spire; - Of flowers that with one scarlet gleam Cover a hundred leagues, and seem To set the hills on fire.
The Youth of green savannahs spake, And many an endless, endless lake, With all its fairy crowds Of islands, that together lie As quietly as spots of sky Among the evening clouds,
"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! Ah me! Our life were life indeed, with thee So passed in quiet bliss, And all the while," said he, "to know That we were in a world of woe, On such an earth as this!"
And then he sometimes interwove Fond thoughts about a father's love : "For there," said he, "are spun Around the heart such tender ties, That our own children to our eyes Are dearer than the sun.
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, A sylvan huntress at my side, And drive the flying deer!
Belovèd 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, Delighted all the while to think That on those lonesome floods, And green savannahs, she should share His board with lawful joy, and bear His name in the wild woods.
But, as you have before been told, This Stripling, sportive, gay, and bold, And, with his dancing crest, So beautiful, through savage lands Had roamed about, with vagrant bands Of Indians in the West.
The wind, the tempest roaring high, The tumult of a tropic sky, Might well be dangerous food For him, a Youth to whom was given So much of earth-so much of heaven, And such impetuous blood.
Whatever in those climes he found Irregular in sight or sound Did to his mind impart 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 That sometimes there did intervene 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, With men to whom no better law Nor better life was known; Deliberately, and undeceived, Those wild men's vices he received, And gave them back his own.
His genius and his moral frame Were thus impaired, and he became The slave of low desires: A Man who without self-control Would seek what the degraded soul Unworthily admires.
And yet he with no feigned delight Had wooed the Maiden, day and night Had loved her, night and morn : 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, "O Ruth! I have been worse than dead; False thoughts, thoughts bold and vain,
Encompassed me on every side When I, in confidence and pride, Had crossed the Atlantic main.
Before me shone a glorious world- Fresh as a banner bright, unfurled To music suddenly:
I looked upon those hills and plains, And seemed as if let loose from chains, To live at liberty.
No more of this; for now, by thee Dear Ruth! more happily set free With nobler zeal I burn; My soul from darkness is released, Like the whole sky when to the east The morning doth return."
Full soon that better mind was gone; No hope, no wish remained, not one,- They stirred him now no more; New objects did new pleasure give, And once again he wished to live As lawless as before.
Meanwhile, as thus with him it fared, They for the voyage were prepared,
And went to the sea-shore,
But, when they thither came, the Youth Deserted his poor Bride, and Ruth
Could never find him more.
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