GERTRUDE OF WYOMING. PART III. I. O LOVE! in such a wilderness as this, Here is the empire of thy perfect bliss, And here thou art a god indeed divine. The views, the walks, that boundless joy inspire! Nor blind with ecstacy's celestial fire, Shall love behold the spark of earth-born time expire. II. Three little moons, how short, amidst the grove, While she, beside her buskin'd youth to rove, Her lovely brow to shade with Indian plume; But not to chase the deer in forest gloom; 'Tis but the breath of heav'n-the blessed air And interchange of hearts unknown, unseen to share. III. What though the sportive dog oft round them note, Or fawn, or wild bird bursting on the wing; Yet who, in love's own presence, would devote To death those gentle throats that wake the spring; Or writhing from the brook its victim bring? But, fed by Gertrude's hand, still let them sing, That shade ev'n now her love, and witness'd first her VOWS. IV. Now labyrinths, which but themselves can pierce, And pines their lawny walk encompass round; 'Twas but when o'er each heart th' idea stole, That come what may, while life's glad pulses roll, |