Over her head the stars, the thoughts of God in

the heavens,

Shone on the eyes of man, who had ceased to marvel and worship,

Save when a blazing comet was seen on the walls of that temple,

As if a hand had appeared and written upon them,

"Upharsin."

And the soul of the maiden, between the stars and the fire-flies,

Wandered alone, and she cried, — “O Gabriel! O my beloved!

Art thou so near unto me, and yet I cannot behold thee?

Art thou so near unto me, and yet thy voice does not reach me ?

Ah! how often thy feet have trod this path to

the prairie !

Ah! how often thine eyes have looked on the

woodlands around me !

Ah! how often beneath this oak, returning from

labor,

Thou hast lain down to rest, and to dream of me in thy slumbers.

When shall these eyes behold, these arms be folded about thee?"

Loud and sudden and near the note of a whippoorwill sounded

Like a flute in the woods; and anon, through the

neighbouring thickets,

Farther and farther away it floated and dropped

into silence.

"Patience!" whispered the oaks from orac

ular caverns of darkness;

And, from the moonlit meadow, a sigh responded, "To-morrow! "

Bright rose the sun next day; and all the

flowers of the garden

Bathed his shining feet with their tears, and

anointed his tresses

With the delicious balm that they bore in their vases of crystal.

"Farewell!" said the priest, as he stood at the shadowy threshold;

"See that you bring back the Prodigal Son from his fasting and famine,

And, too, the Foolish Virgin, who slept when the bridegroom was coming."

"Farewell!" answered the maiden, and, smiling, with Basil descended

Down to the river's brink, where the boatmen already were waiting.

Thus beginning their journey with morning, and sunshine, and gladness,

Swiftly they followed the flight of him who was speeding before them,

Blown by the blast of fate like a dead leaf over the desert.

Not that day, nor the next, nor yet the day that

succeeded,

Found they trace of his course, in lake or forest

or river,

Nor, after many days, had they found him; but vague and uncertain

Rumors alone were their guides through a wild and desolate country;

Till, at the little inn of the Spanish town of

Adayes,

Weary and worn, they alighted, and learned from the garrulous landlord,

That on the day before, with horses and guides and companions,

Gabriel left the village, and took the road of the

prairies.

127

IV.

FAR in the West there lies a desert land, where the mountains

Lift, through perpetual snows, their lofty and luminous summits.

Down from their desolate, deep ravines, where the gorge, like a gateway,

Opens a passage rude to the wheels of the emi

grant's wagon,

Westward the Oregon flows and the Walleway and Owyhee.

Eastward, with devious course, among the Wind

river Mountains,