With dashing wheels and flying steed, Nor whip nor spur to urge their speed, To view his land Fitch Moreland came, The eldest of his honoured name, And heir of all, the green-crowned wood, In which the low-roofed school-house stood, The wide-spread fields, the meadows broad, The fruitful land and grassy sward, And near embraced with roses wild The old brown house that through them smiled, Where Alice Hill had passed her days Unnoticed by a flatterer's gaze; And Rudolph Hill, a farmer skilled, The fields had reaped, the lands had tilled, Fitch Moreland's tenant, prompt to pay His rent and taxes gathering day. Just free from school, with shout and song, Fitch Moreland met a joyous throng, And joined their sports, with heart as gay, As boyhood had not passed away; Till seated in a fairy glade, Beneath an elm tree's grateful shade, Sweet Alice Hill fell on his sight, With glowing cheeks and eyes of light: Around her neck, her hair unbound, In floating tresses swept the ground, And pupils kneeling at her side, Wild flowers in graceful garlands tied, A coronal as fresh and gay As ever crowned "the Queen of May." With courteous words and city mien, Fitch Moreland joined the rustic scene. Quick beat the heart of Alice Hill, Her pulses woke a music thrill: Her glowing cheek with crimson flushed, And in her heart tumultuous gushed A spring of thought, so sweet and rare, It might have claimed the name of air, Its unseen visions came so bright, To shed on life a holier light. O ye who wear love's gentle spell, And bless the bondage, can ye tell Blithe Alice Hill if this was Love,-- That like a homeless, wandering dove, Beat at her fluttering heart, and sought An altar for his blissful thought? No longer now, like placid streams, Life passes by in quiet dreams; But hurried, feverish pulses shake The beating heart they may not break,-- Hope, fear, desire, and all that stored The spring of life, hung on his word: There was no life without his smile, Nor dreamed she that a heart of guile Beat in so fair and smooth a shrine, That other eyes for him might shine, And softer voices breathe his name! O, Alice Hill, love's vestal flame Hath many a false, misguiding light, To cheat young hearts, with promise bright. And strew life's shores with dearer wrecks Than perish from our wave-washed decks.