302 SELECT POETRY

She led him, and her silent soul, the while

Oft as the dewy laughter of his eye

Met her sweet serious glance, rejoiced to think
That aught so pure, so beautiful, was hers,

To bring before her God.

So passed they on,
O’er Judah’s hills ; and wheresoe’er the leaves
Of the broad sycamore made sounds at noon,
Like lulling rain-drops, or the olive-boughs,
With their cool dimness, crossed the sultry blue
Of Syria’s heaven, she paused, that he might
rest 5
Yet from her own meek eyelids chased the sleep
That weighed their dark fringe down, to sit and
watch
The crimson deepening o’er his cheek’s repose,,
As at a red flower’s heart ; and where a fount
Lay, like a twilight star, midst palmy shades,
Making its banks green gems along the wild,—
There too she lingered, from the diamond wave,
Drawing clear water for his rosy lips,
And softly parting clusters of jet curls
To bathe his brow.

At last the fane was reached—
The earth’s one sanctuary ; and rapture hushed
Her bosom, as before her, through the day,
It rose, a mountain of white marble, steeped
In light like floating gold. But when that hour
Waned to the farewell moment,—when the boy
Lifted, through rainbow-gleaming tears, his eye
Beseechingly to hers—and, half in fear,