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.
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