POETRY. 705 



One only passion, unreveal'd. 

 With maiden pride the maid conceal'd. 

 Yet not less purely felt the flame ; — 

 Oh, need I tell that passion's name ! 



THE HARPER. 



[^From the same.'] 



As died the somids upon the tide, 

 The shallop reached the main>land side. 

 And ere his onward way he took, 

 The Stranger cast a lingering look, 

 Where easily his eye might reach 

 The harper on the islet beach, 

 Reclined against a blighted tree. 

 As wasted, grey, and worn as he. 

 To minstrel meditation given. 

 His rev'rend brow was raised to heaven. 

 As from the rising sun to claim 

 A sparkle of inspiring flame. 

 His hand, reclined upon the wire, 

 Seem'd watching the awakening fire ; 

 So still he sate, as those who wait 

 Till judgment speak the doom of fate ; 

 So still, as if no breeze might dare 

 To lift one lock of hoary hair ; 

 So still, as life itself were fled. 

 In the last sound his harp had sped. 



THE SACRIFICE. 



[ JVoOT the same.2 



'TwAS all prepared j — and from the rock, 

 A goat, the patriarch of the flock. 

 Before the kindling pile was laid, 

 And pierced by Roderick's ready blade. 

 Patient the sickening victim eyed 

 The life-blood ebb in crimson tide. 

 Down his clogg' d beard and shaggy limb. 

 Till darkness glazed his eyeballs dim. 

 The grisly priest, with murmuring prayer, 

 A slender crosslet framed with care, 

 Vol. LII. 2 Z 



