the hermit
Who wrapt in shadows of the past
The being on his bounty cast.
He never felt a parent's care
His infant joys or sorrows share,
He never felt the voice of love
O'er his young spirit gently move,
Until he saw the bright Adel,
And then the lightning of love's spell
Broke o'er the spirit of life's dream,
As sunshine o'er the darkened stream.
But as he loved, hope, withering, fled,
Like the pale memory of the dead.
He knew and felt each childish scene
Must cease to be what it had been,
And that the day-dream of his soul
Was but a visionary goal—
A madd'ning hope, that chain'd his heart
To one from whom he must depart.
. . . Adela grew in beauty's light,
A thing of earth, yet passing bright,
And like the wild and blooming flower,
That bent but to the fragrant shower,
The being on his bounty cast.
He never felt a parent's care
His infant joys or sorrows share,
He never felt the voice of love
O'er his young spirit gently move,
Until he saw the bright Adel,
And then the lightning of love's spell
Broke o'er the spirit of life's dream,
As sunshine o'er the darkened stream.
But as he loved, hope, withering, fled,
Like the pale memory of the dead.
He knew and felt each childish scene
Must cease to be what it had been,
And that the day-dream of his soul
Was but a visionary goal—
A madd'ning hope, that chain'd his heart
To one from whom he must depart.
. . . Adela grew in beauty's light,
A thing of earth, yet passing bright,
And like the wild and blooming flower,
That bent but to the fragrant shower,
7
