Soon, prov’d a DESERTER, Stern Justice prevailing, HE DIED! and his Spirit to AGNES is fled:— The breeze, on the mountain’s tall summit now sailing Fans lightly the dew-drops, that spangle their bed! The Villagers, thronging around, scatter roses, The grey wing of Evening the western sky closes,— And Night’s sable pall, o’er the landscape extending, Is the mourning of Nature! the SOLEMN SCENE ENDING. _The ALIEN BOY._ ’Twas on a Mountain, near the Western Main An ALIEN dwelt. A solitary Hut Built on a jutting crag, o’erhung with weeds, Mark’d the poor Exile’s home. Full ten long years The melancholy wretch had liv’d unseen By all, save HENRY, a lov’d, little Son The partner of his sorrows. On the day When Persecution, in the sainted guise Of Liberty, spread wide its venom’d pow’r, The brave, Saint HUBERT, fled his Lordly home, And, with his baby Son, the mountain sought. Resolv’d to cherish in his bleeding breast The secret of his birth, Ah! birth too high For his now humbled state, from infancy He taught him, labour’s task: He bade him chear The dreary day of cold adversity By patience and by toil. The Summer morn Shone on the pillow of his rushy bed; The noontide, sultry hour, he fearless past On the shagg’d eminence; while the young Kid Skipp’d, to the cadence of his minstrelsy. At night young HENRY trimm’d the faggot fire While oft, Saint HUBERT, wove the ample net To snare the finny victim. Oft they sang And talk’d, while sullenly the waves would sound Dashing the sandy shore. Saint HUBERT’s eyes Would swim in tears of fondness, mix’d with joy, When he observ’d the op’ning harvest rich Of promis’d intellect, which HENRY’s soul, Whate’er the subject of their talk, display’d.