--Men with business over-laden, Men of science, pondering axioms, Men of letters, lost in reverie, She imagined when they passed her Gaz'd with secret admiration, Ask'd in wonder, "_who can that be_?" Backward turned perchance, to view her, As she lightly glided onward. --So completely had this beauty Leagued with vanity, uprooted Serious thought and useful purpose, And the nobler ends of being, That even in the solemn Temple Where humility befitteth All who offer adoration, Close observance of the apparel Of acquaintances or strangers, And a self-display intruded On the service of devotion, While her fair cheek oft-times rested Daintily on gloveless fingers Where the radiant jewels sparkled On a hand like sculptured marble. * * * * * Meantime in the rural mansion Whence with gladness she departed, Sate the mother and the sister By the hearth-stone or the lamp-light, Thinking of their loved Miranda, Speaking of her, working for her, Writing tender, earnest letters To sustain her mid her studies, Fearing that her health might suffer By the labor and privation That a year at school demanded. --As the autumnal evenings lengthen'd, Bertha with a filial sweetness Sought her mother's favorite authors, And with perfect elocution Made their sentiments and feelings, Guests around the quiet fireside. --Page of Livy, or of Caesar, Stirring scenes of tuneful Maro, From their native, stately numbers To the mother's ear she rendered; Or with her o'er ancient regions, Fallen sphynx, or ruin'd column, Led by guiding Rollin, wandered, Deeply mused with saintly Sherlock, Or through Milton's inspiration Scanned the lore of forfeit Eden. * * * * * With the vertic rays of Summer Homeward came the fair Miranda. How the village people wonder'd At her fashions, and her movements, How she made the new piano Tremble to its inmost centre With _andante_, and _bravura_, What a piece she had to show them Of Andromache the Trojan, Wrought in silks of every color, And 'twas said a foreign language Such as princes use in Paris, She could speak to admiration. --Greatly their surprise amused her, But the Mother and the Sister With their eagle-eyed affection, Spied a thorn amid the garland, Heard the sighing on her pillow, Saw the flush invade her forehead, And were sure some secret sorrow Rankled in that snowy bosom. * * * * * Rumor, soon with hundred voices Whisper'd of a dashing lover, Irreligious and immoral, And the anxious Mother counsel'd Sad of heart her fair-hair'd daughter. --Scarce with any show of reverence Listen'd the impatient maiden, Then with tearless eyes wide open Like full orbs of shadeless sapphire All unpausing, thus responded. --"I have promised Aldebaran, To be his,--alone,--forever! And I'll keep that promise, Mother, Though the firm skies fall around me, And yon stars in fragments shatter'd, Each with thousand voices warn'd me.