At last that heart to hope is half beguiled, And, pale through tears suppress'd, the mournful beauty smiled.

X.

Night came, and in their lighted bower, full late,

The joy of converse had endured -- when, hark!
Abrupt and loud a summons shook their gate;
And heedless of the dog's obstreperous bark,
A form had rush'd amidst them from the dark,
And spread his arms, - and fell upon the floor:
Of aged strength his limbs retain'd the mark;
But desolate he look'd, and famish'd poor,

As ever shipwreck'd wretch lone left on desert shore.

XI.

Uprisen, each wondering brow is knit and arch'd:
A spirit from the dead they deem him first:
To speak he tries; but quivering, pale, and parch'd,
From lips, as by some powerless dream accursed,
Emotions unintelligible burst;

And long his filmed eye is red and dim;

At length the pity-proffered cup his thirst

Had half assuaged, and nerved his shuddering limb,

When Albert's hand he grasp'd ;—but Albert knew not him

XII.

"And hast thou then forgot," (he cried forlorn, And eyed the group with half-indignant air,) "Oh! hast thou, Christian chief, forgot the morn When I with thee the cup of peace did share? Then stately was this head, and dark this hair, That now is white as Appalachia's snow; But, if the weight of fifteen years' despair, And age hath bow'd me, and the torturing foe, Bring me my boy- and he will his deliverer know!"

XIII.

It was not long, with eyes and heart of flame,
Ere Henry to his loved Oneida flew :

"Bless thee, my guide!"- but backward, as he

came,

The chief his old bewildered head withdrew,

And grasped his arm, and look'd and look'd him through.

'Twas strange-nor could the group a smile

control-

The long, the doubtful scrutiny to view :

At last delight o'er all his features stole,

"It is my own," he cried, and clasp'd him to his soul.