Our eyes, yet unbelieving, saw distinct, 345 Amyntor, who the tale distressful heard With sympathizing sorrow, on himself, 355 On his severer fate, now pondering deep, Rapt by fad thought the hill unheeding left; And reach'd, with swerving step, the distant strand. Above, around, in cloudy circles wheeld, Or failing level on the polar gale That cool with evening rose, a thousand wings, The summer-nations of these pregnant cliffs, Play'd sportive round, and to the sun outspread Their various plumage; or in wild notes haild His parent-beam that animates and chears 365 All living kinds. He, glorious from amidst 360 A pomp * The author who relates this story adds, that the produce of grain that season was the most plentiful they had seen for many years before. Vide Martin's De. cription of the Western Ines of Scotland, pi 286. A pomp of golden clouds, th’ Atlantic flood Still T 3 Still hover round, or walk these isles unseen, 400 410 Adown his cheek, through shivering joy and doubt, The tear falt-falling stream’d. My love! iny life! Soul of my wishes ! fav’d beyond all faith! Return to life and me. O fly, my friends, Fly, and from yon translucent fountain bring 415 The living stream. Thou dearer to my foul Than all the sumless wealth this fea entombs, My Theodora, yet awake : 'tis I, 'Tis poor Amyntor calls thee! At that name, That potent name, her spirit from the verge Of death recall’d, she trembling rais'd her eyes; Trembling, his neck with eager grasp entwind, And murmur'd out his name : then funk again; Then fwoon'd upon his bofom, through excess Of bliss unhop'd, too mighty for her frame. 425 The rose-bud thus, that to the beam serene Of morning glad unfolds her tender charms, Shrinks and expires beneath the noon-day blaze. Moments 420 Moments of dread suspense-but soon to cease! For now, while on her face these men unknown 430 The stream, with cool aspersion, busy calt, His eyes beheld, with wonder and amaze, Beheld in them-his friends! th'adventurous few, Who bore her to the skiff! whose daring skill Had sav'd her from the deep! As, o'er her cheek, 435 Rekindling life, like morn, its light diffus'd In dawning purple ; from their lips he learn'd, How to yon isle, yon round of moss-clad hills, Borea nam'd, before the tempest borne, These islanders, thrice three, then prison'd there, 440 (So heaven ordaind) with utmost peril run, With toil invincible, from shelve and rock Their boat preserv’d, and to this happy coast Its prow directed safe-He heard no more : The rest already known, his every sense, 44 5 His full-collected soul, on her alone Was fix'd, was hung enraptur’d, while these sounds, This voice, as of an angel, pierc'd his ear. Amyntor! O my life's recover'd hore! My soul's despair and rapture ! can this be? 450 Am I on earth? and do these arms indeed Thy real form enfold ? Thou dreadful deep! Ye shores unknown! ye wild impending hills! Dare I yet trust my sense? - yes, 'tis he! 'Tis he himself! My eyes, my bounding heart, 455 Confess their living lord! What shall I say? How vent the boundless transport that expan.is My labouring thought? th' unutterable blits, Joy, wonder, gratitude, that pain to death The T4 460 The breast they charm ? - Amyntor, O fupport 465 470 In filent fondness dwelt: while all his soul, With trembling tenderness of hope and fear Pleasingly pain'd, was all employ'd for her; The rouz'd emotions warring in her breast, Attempering, to compose, and gradual fit 475 For further joy her soft impreffive frame. O happy! though as yet thou know'st not half The bliss that waits thee! but, thou gentle mind, Whose sigh is pity, and whose smile is love, For all who joy or sorrow, arm thy breast With that best temperance, which from fond excess, When rapture lifts to dangerous height its powers, Reflective guards. Know then-and let calm thought On wonder wait-safe refug'd in this ise, Thy god-like father lives! and lo—but curb, 485 Repress the transport that o'erheaves thy heart; 'Tis he-look yonder-he, whose reverend steps The mountain's fide descend ! - Abrupt from his Her hand she drew; and, as on wings upborne, Shot o’er the space between. He faw, he knew, 490 489 Alto |