Now, as the houseless sate, and up the sky Dawn to day strengthen'd, pass'd a stranger by: He saw and halted;--she beheld him not-- All round them slept, and silence wrapt the spot. To this new-comer Nature had denied The gifts that graced the outcast crouch'd beside: With orient suns his cheek was swarth and grim, And low the form, though lightly shaped the limb; Yet life glow'd vigorous in that deep-set eye, With a calm force that dared you to defy; And the strong foot was planted on the stone Firm as a gnome's upon his mountain throne; Simple his garb, yet what the wealthy wear, And conscious power gave lordship to his air. Lone in the Babel thus the maid and man; Long he gazed silent, and at last began: "Poor homeless outcast--dost thou see me stand Close by thy side, yet beg not? Stretch thy hand." The voice was stern, abrupt, yet full and deep: The outcast heard, and started as from sleep, And meekly rose, and stretch'd the hand and sought To murmur thanks--the murmur fail'd the thought. He took the slight thin hand within his own: "This hand hath nought of honest labour known; And yet methinks thou'rt honest!--speak, my child." And his face broke to beauty as it smiled. But her unconscious eyes, cast down the while, Met not the heart that open'd in the smile: Again the murmur rose, and died in air. "Nay, what thy mother and her home, and where?" Lo, with those words, the rigid ice that lay Layer upon layer within, dissolves away, And tears come rushing from o'ercharged eyes:-- "There is my mother--there her home--the skies!" Oh, in that burst, what depth of lone distress! O desolation of the motherless! Yet through the anguish how survived the trust, Home in the skies, though in the grave the dust! The man was moved, and silence fell again; Upsprung the sun--Light re-assumed the reign;-- Love ruled on high! Below, the twain that share Men's builded empires--Mammon and Despair! At length, with pitying eye and soothing tone, The stranger spoke: "Thy bitterer grief mine own; Amidst the million, lonely as thou art, Mine the full coffers, but the beggar'd heart. Yet Gold--earth's demon, when unshared, receives God's breath, and grows a god, when it relieves. Trust still our common Father, orphan one, And He shall guide thee, if thou trust the son. Nay, follow, child." And on with passive feet, Ghost-like she follow'd through the death-like street. They paused at last a stately pile before; The drowsy porter oped the noiseless door; The girl stood wistful still without;--the pause The guide divined, and thus rebuked the cause:-- "Enter, no tempter let thy penury fear; I have a sister, and her home is here." II.