Fair fell the young moon's silver beam,
And gazing on its restless sheen,
Stood one whose garb, and port, and mien,
Bespoke him of a foreign land,
One born to win, and hold command;
The master mind, the leading one,
Where deeds of manly might were done.
Yet, by the hallowed glow, that came
O'er lip and cheek, o'er eye and brow,
He who beheld, might guess that now
His thoughts were not of wealth and fame:
Whence could that veiling radiance shine,
Save from Affection's holy shrine?
And this was he, who from afar,
Had come to bear away his bride;
And love had been the guiding star,
That lit him o'er the trackless tide;
"To-morrow, on its sunny wing,
My bridal hour soon shall bring;
And those bright orbs which o'er me shed
Such gentle radiance from on high,
Shall shine upon my nuptial bed,
When next they walk along the sky.
0! what are all the pomps of earth,
Of honour, glory, greatness, worth,
Beside the bliss which Love confers
Upon his humblest followers!"
He said, and from the river turned;--
An eye, that with fierce hatred burned,
Met his, and this reply was made: