But Gertrude, as she eyed him, knew not why A strange and troubling wonder stopt her short. "In England thou hast been, and, by report,
An orphan's name (quoth Albert) may'st have known.
Sad tale! — when latest fell our frontier fort,
One innocent one soldier's child alone
Was spared, and brought to me, who loved him
"Young Henry Waldegrave! three delightful years
These very walls his infant sports did see:
But most I loved him when his parting tears
Alternately bedew'd my child and me:
His sorest parting, Gertrude, was from thee;
Nor half its grief his little heart could hold;
By kindred he was sent for o'er the sea,
They tore him from us when but twelve years old,
And scarcely for his loss have I been yet con-
soled !"
His face the wanderer hid but could not hide A tear, a smile, upon his cheek that dwell;"And speak! mysterious stranger!" (Gertrude cried)
yet waved in the agitation of the storm, and frequently add to the effect of a mountainous and picturesque scenery.
"It is it is! I knew-I knew him well!
"Tis Waldegrave's self, of Waldegrave come to
A burst of joy the father's lips declare,
But Gertrude speechless on his bosom fell;
At once his open arms embraced the pair,
Was never group more blest, in this wide world
of care.
"And will ye pardon then (replied the youth)
Your Waldegrave's feigned name, and false attire?
I durst not in the neighbourhood, in truth,
The very fortunes of your house inquire,
Lest one that knew me might some tidings dire
Impart, and I my weakness all betray;
For had I lost my Gertrude and my sire,
I meant but o'er your tombs to weep a day,
Unknown I meant to weep, unknown to pass away.
"But here ye live, ye bloom, in each dear
The changing hand of time I may not blame;
For there, it hath but shed more reverend grace,
And here, of beauty perfected the frame :
And well I know your hearts are still the same
They could not change-ye look the very way
As when an orphan first to you I came.
And have ye heard of my poor guide, I pray? Nay, wherefore weep ye, friends, on such a joyous day ?"
"And art thou here? or is it but a dream?
And wilt thou, Waldegrave, wilt thou, leave us more ?"
"No, never! thou that yet dost lovelier seem
Than aught on earth-than e'en thyself of yore-
I will not part thee from thy father's shore;
But we will cherish him with mutual arms,
And hand in hand again the path explore,
Which every ray of young remembrance warms,
While thou shalt be my own, with all thy truth
and charms !"
At morn, as if beneath a galaxy
Of over-arching groves in blossoms white,
Where all was odorous scent and harmony,
And gladness to the heart, nerve, ear, and sight:
There, if, oh, gentle Love! I read aright
The utterance that seal'd thy sacred bond,
"Twas listening to these accents of delight,
She hid upon his breast those eyes, beyond
Expression's power to paint, all languishingly
fond.
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