NATHANIEL PARKER WILLIS.

FROM

THE MINSTREL EDWIN."

Voices that call thee in the way; and fly No followers at his back, nor in his hand
From all who in the wilderness pass by. Buckler, or sword, or spear,

yet in his mien

Command sat throned serene, and if ne smiled, “Wet not thy burning lip

Å kingly condescension graced his lips, In streams that to a human dwelling glide ; The lion would have crouched to in his lair. Nor rest thee where the covert fountains hide, His garb was simple, and his sandals worn ; Nor kneel thee down to dip

His stature modelled with a perfect grace ; The water where the pilgrim bends to drink, His countenance, the impress of a God, By desert well, or river's grassy brink. Touched with the open innocence of a child;

His eye was blue and calm, as is the sky " And pass not thou between

In the serenest noon; his hair unshorn The weary traveller and the cooling breeze,

Fell to his shoulders ; and his curling beard And lie not down to sleep beneath the trees

The fulness of perfected manhood bore.
Where human tracks are seen ;

He looked on Helon earnestly awhile,
Nor milk the goat that browseth on the plain, As if his heart was moved, and, stooping down,
Nor pluck the standing corn, or yellow grain. He took a little water in his hand

And laid it on his brow, and said, “Be clean!” “And now depart ! and when

And lo! the scales fell from him, and his blood Thy heart is heavy, and thine eyes are dim,

Coursed with delicious coolness through his veins, Lift up thy prayer beseechingly to Him

And his dry palms grew moist, and on his brow Who, from the tribes of men,

The dewy softness of an infant's stole. Selected thee to feel his chastening rod.

His leprosy was cleansed, and he fell down Depart ! O leper ! and forget not God!”

Prostrate at Jesus' feet, and worshipped him.
And he went forth — alone ! not one of all
The many whom he loved, nor she whose name
Was woven in the fibres of the heart
Breaking within him now, to come and speak

THE MINSTREL.
Comfort unto him. Yea, he went his way,
Sick and heart-broken, and alone, — to die !
For God had cursed the leper !

THERE lived in Gothic days, as legends tell,

A shepherd swain, a man of low degree;
It was noon,

Whose sires, perchance, in Fairy-land might And Helon knelt beside a stagnant pool

dwell, In the lone wilderness, and bathed his brow, Sicilian groves, or vales of Arcady ; Hot with the burning leprosy, and touched But he, I ween, was of the north countrie, — The loathsome water to his fevered lips,

A nation famed for song, and beauty's charms ;
Praying that he might be so blest, to die ! Zealous, yet modest; innocent, though free ;
Footsteps approached, and with no strength to flee, Patient of toil ; serene amidst alarms;
He drew the covering closer on his lip,

Inflexible in faith ; invincible in arms.
Crying, “Unclean ! unclean !" and in the folds
Of the coarse sackcloth shrouding up his face,

The shepherd swain, of whom I mention made, He fell upon the earth till they should pass.

On Scotia's mountains fed his little flock; Nearer the stranger came, and bending o'er The sickle, scythe, or plough he never swayed; The leper's prostrate form, pronounced his name. An honest heart was almost all his stock ; “Helon !” – the voice was like the master His drink the living water from the rock ; tone

The milky dams supplied his board, and lent Of a rich instrument, — most strangely sweet ; Their kindly fleece to baffle winter's shock; And the dull pulses of disease awoke,

And he, though oft with dust and sweat beAnd for a moment beat beneath the hot

sprent, And leprous scales with a restoring thrill. Did guide and guard their wanderings, where“ Helon ! arise !” and he forgot his curse,

soe'er they went. And rose and stood before him.

From labor health, from health contentment Love and awe

springs; Mingled in the regard of Helon's eye

Contentment opes the source of every joy. As he beheld the stranger. He was not

He envied not, he never thought of, kings; In costly raiment clad, nor on his brow

Nor from those appetites sustained annoy, The symbol of a princely lineage wore ;

That chance may frustrate, or indulgence cloy :

Nor Fate his calm and humble hopes beguiled ; | Tyrant far less, or traitor of the field; Hemourned no recreant friend nor mistress coy, | And sure the sylvan reign unbloody joy might For on his vows the blameless Phoebe smiled,

yield. And heralone he loved, and loved her from a child.

Lo! where the stripling, rapt in wonder, roves

Beneath the precipice o'erhung with pine ; No jealousy their dawn of love o'ercast,

And sees, on high, amidst the encircling groves, Nor blasted were their wedded days with strife;

From cliff to cliff the foaming torrents shine, Each season looked delightful, as it passed,

While waters, woods, and winds, in concert To the fond husband and the faithful wife.

join, Beyond the lowly vale of shepherd life

And Echo swells the chorus to the skies. They never roamed ; secure beneath the storm

Would Edwin this majestic scene resign Which in Ambition's lofty land is rife,

For aught the huntsman's puny craft supplies ! Where peace and love are cankered by the

Ah! no : he better knows great Nature's charms

to prize. Of pride, each bud of joy industrious to deform.

And oft he traced the uplands, to survey, The wight, whose tale these artless lines unfold, When o'er the sky advanced the kindlingdawn, Was all the offspring of this humble pair ; The crimson cloud, blue main, and mountain His birth no oracle or seer foretold ;

gray, No prodigy appeared in earth or air,

And lake, dim gleaming on the smoky lawn: Nor aught that might a strange event declare. Far to the west the long, long vale withdrawn, You guess each circumstance of Edwin's birth ; While twilight loves to linger for a while ; The parent's transport and the parent's care ; And now he faintly kens the bounding fawn, The gossip's prayer for wealth and wit and And villager abroad at early toil. worth ;

But, lo! the Sun appears ! and heaven, eartlı, And one long summer day of indolence and mirth.

And oft the craggy cliff he loved to climb, And yet poor Edwin was no vulgar boy ;

When all in mist the world below was lost. Deep thought oft seemed to fix his infant eye. Dainties he heeded not, nor gaud, nor toy,

What dreadful pleasure ! there to stand sub

lime, Save one short pipe of rudest minstrelsy ; Silent when glad ; affectionate though shy ;

Like shipwrecked mariner on desert coast,

And view the enormous waste of vapor, tossed And now his look was most demurely sad ; And now he laughed aloud, yet none knew why.

In billows, lengthening to the horizon round, The neighbors stared and sighed, yet blessed

Now scooped in gulfs, with mountains now

embossed ! the lad : Some deemed him wondrous wise, and some be

And hear the voice of mirth and song rebound,

Flocks, herds, and waterfalls, along the hoar prolieved him mad.

found ! But why should I his childish feats display? In truth he was a strange and wayward wight, Concourse and noise and toil he ever fled ; Fond of each gentle and each dreadful scene. Nor cared to mingle in the clamorous fray In darkness and in storm he found delight; Of squabbling imps; but to the forest sped, Nor less, than when on ocean wave serene Or roamed at large the lonely mountain's head, The southern sun diffused his dazzling shene.* Or, where the maze of some bewildered stream Even sad vicissitude amused his soul ; To deep untrodden groves his footsteps led, And if a sigh would sometimes intervene,

There would he wander wild, till Phoebus' beam, And down his cheek a tear of pity roll, Shot from the western cliff, released the weary A sigh, car, so sweet, he wished not to control. team.

JAMES BEATTIE.

ocean, smile.

THE BELLS.

1.

The exploit of strength, dexterity, or speed,
To him nor vanity nor joy could bring ;
His heart, from cruel sport estranged, would