He left the place of death; and, rapt in thought, The trysting-tree of love's young years he sought; And, as its branches opened on his sight, Bathing their young buds in the pale moonlight, A whispered voice, melodious, soft, and low, As if an angel mourned for mortal woe, Borne on the ev'ning breeze, came o'er his ear: He knew the voice--his heart stood still to hear! And each sense seem'd a listener; but his eye Sought the sad author of the wand'ring sigh; And 'neath the tree he loved, a form as fair As summer in its noontide, knelt in prayer. He clasped his hands--his brow, his bosom burned; He felt the past--the buried past returned! Still, still he listened, till, like words of flame, Through her low prayer he heard his whispered name! "Helen!" he wildly cried--"my own--my blest!" Then bounded forth.--I cannot tell the rest. There was a shriek of joy: heart throbbed on heart, And hands were locked as though they ne'er might part; Wild words were spoken--bliss tumultuous rolled, And all the anguish of the past was told. IX. Upon her love long had her father frowned, Till tales of Edmund's rising fortunes found Their way across the wilderness of sea, And reached the valley of his birth. But she, With truth unaltered, and with heart sincere, Through the long midnight of each hopeless year That marked his absence, shunned the proffered hand Of wealth and rank; and met her sire's command With tears and bended knees, until his breast Again a father's tenderness confessed. X. 'Twas May--bright May: bird, flower, and shrub, and tree, Rejoiced in light; while, as a waveless sea Of living music, glowed the clear blue sky, And every fleecy cloud that floated by Appeared an isle of song!--as all around And all above them echoed with the sound Of joyous birds, in concert loud and sweet, Chanting their summer hymns. Beneath their feet The daisy put its crimson liv'ry on; While from beneath each crag and mossy stone Some gentle flower looked forth; and love and life Through the Creator's glorious works were rife, As though his Spirit in the sunbeams said, "Let there be life and love!" and was obeyed. Then, in the valley danced a joyous throng, And happy voices sang a bridal song; Yea, tripping jocund on the sunny green, The old and young in one glad dance were seen; Loud o'er the plain their merry music rang, While cripple granddames, smiling, sat and sang The ballads of their youth; and need I say 'Twas Edmund's and fair Helen's wedding-day? Then, as he led her forth in joy and pride, A hundred voices blessed him and his bride. Yet scarce he heard them; for his every sense, Lost in delight and ecstasy intense, Dwelt upon her; and made their blessings seem As words breathed o'er us in a wand'ring dream. XI.