To the strong shelter of a father's side, Tell her, a mother bought the priceless right To bless unblushing her she gave to light; Bought it as those who would redeem a past Must buy--by penance, faithful to the last. Thorns in each path, a grave the only goal, Glides mine, atoning, to my father's soul!" What at this swift revealment--dark and fast As fleets the cloud-wrack, o'er the Indian past? No more is Lucy free with her sweet dower } Of love and youth! Another has the power } To bar the solemn rite, to blast the marriage bower. } "Will this proud Saxon of the princely line Yield his heart's gem to alien hands like mine? What though the blot denies his rank its heir: } The more his pride will bid his love repair } By loftiest nuptials--O supreme despair! } Shall I divulge the secret! shall I rear, Myself, the barrier,--and the bliss so near?" He scorn'd himself, and raised his drooping crest: "Mine be Man's honour--leave to God the rest!" As thus his high resolve, a sudden cry } Startled his heart. He turn'd: Calantha by! } Why on the portrait glares her haggard eye? } "Whose likeness this? Thou know'st not, brother? speak! What mean that clouded brow--that changing cheek? Thou know'st not!" "Yes!" And as the answer came, With Death's strong terror shook the sister's frame, A bitterer pang, an icier shudder, ran Through _his_ fierce nature-- "Dost _thou_ know the man? Ha! his own tale! O dull and blinded! how, Flash upon flash, descends the lightning now! _Thou_, his forsaken--_his_! And I--who--nay! Look up Calantha; for, befal what may, He shall----" The promise, or the threat, was said To ears already deafen'd as the dead! His arm but breaks the fall: the panting breast Yet heaves convulsive through the stifling vest. The robe, relax'd, bids doubt--if doubt yet be-- Merge the last gleam in starless certainty! Lo there, the fatal gift of love and woe Miming without the image graved below-- The same each likeness by each sufferer worn, Or differing but as noonday from the morn. In Lucy's portrait, manhood's earliest youth Shone from the clear eye with a light like truth. There, play'd that fearless smile with which we meet The sward that hides the swamp before our feet; The bright on-looking to the Future, ere Our sins reflect their own dark shadows there:-- Calantha's portrait spoke of one in whom, Young yet in years; the heart had lost its bloom; The lip of joy the lip of pride had grown; It smiled--the smile we love to trust had flown. In the collected eye and lofty mien The graver power experience brings was seen; Beautiful both; and if the manlier face