That sometimes from the sayage den, And sometimes from the darksome shade And sometimes starting up at once There came and looked him in the face An angel beautiful and bright; And that unknowing what he did, And saved from outrage worse than death And how she wept, and clasped his knees; And how she tended him in vain And ever strove to expiate The scorn that crazed his brain ; And that she nursed him in a cave; His dying words—but when I reached That tenderest strain of all the ditty, My faltering voice and pausing harp Disturbed her soul with pity! All impulses of soul and sense Had thrilled my guileless Genevieve ; The music and the doleful tale, The rich and balmy eve; And hopes, and fears that kindle hope, An undistinguishable throng, And gentle wishes long subdued, Subdued and cherished long! G She wept with pity and delight, She blushed with love, and virgin shame; And like the murmur of a dream, I heard her breathe my name. Her bosom heaved-she stepped aside, She fled to me and wept. eye She half inclosed me with her arms, 'Twas partly love, and partly fear, That I might rather feel, than see, |