the hermit
Yet there was one who had the power
To soothe the terrors of that hour,
And quell the fury of the storm
That shook the tall and stately form,—
His child, the idol of his soul,
O'er these dark moments held control
A sound, a breath from her could chase
The demon from its lurking-place;
Her sweet low voice, her fairy foot,
The music of her magic lute,—
A glance from her deep swimming eye,
Would quell his fiercest agony.
Then he would gaze on that dear face,
Intently bent on his, to trace
The shade depart from off that brow,
Thus smiling on her brightness now;
And then he felt there still was one
To whom his spirit fondly clung;
The last of his proud race was she,
The lode-star of his destiny.
Adela loved him—loved, 'tis true,
But then she feared and dreaded too;
To soothe the terrors of that hour,
And quell the fury of the storm
That shook the tall and stately form,—
His child, the idol of his soul,
O'er these dark moments held control
A sound, a breath from her could chase
The demon from its lurking-place;
Her sweet low voice, her fairy foot,
The music of her magic lute,—
A glance from her deep swimming eye,
Would quell his fiercest agony.
Then he would gaze on that dear face,
Intently bent on his, to trace
The shade depart from off that brow,
Thus smiling on her brightness now;
And then he felt there still was one
To whom his spirit fondly clung;
The last of his proud race was she,
The lode-star of his destiny.
Adela loved him—loved, 'tis true,
But then she feared and dreaded too;
5
