=_Nathaniel Parker Willis, 1807-1867._= (Manual, pp. 504, 519.)

From the “Sacred Poems.”

=_365._= HAGAR IN THE WILDERNESS.

       * * * * *
      The morning pass’d, and Asia’s sun rose up
  In the clear heaven, and every beam was heat. 
  The cattle of the hills were in the shade,
  And the bright plumage of the Orient lay
  On beating bosoms in her spicy trees. 
  It was an hour of rest; but Hagar found
  No shelter in the wilderness, and on
  She kept her weary way, until the boy
  Hung down his head, and open’d his parch’d lips
  For water; but she could not give it him. 
  She laid him down beneath the sultry sky,—­
  For it was better than the close, hot breath
  Of the thick pines,—­and tried to comfort him,—­
  But he was sore athirst, and his blue eyes
  Were dim and bloodshot, and he could not know
  Why God denied him water in the wild.

  She sat a little longer, and he grew
  Ghastly and faint, as if he would have died. 
  It was too much for her, she lifted him,
  And bore him further on, and laid his head
  Beneath the shadow of a desert shrub;
  And, shrouding up her face, she went away,
  And sat to watch where he could see her not,
  Till he should die; and watching him, she mourned: 

    “God stay thee in thine agony, my boy! 
  I cannot see thee die; I cannot brook
        Upon thy brow to look,
  And see death settle on my cradle-joy. 
  How have I drunk the light of thy blue eye! 
        And could I see thee die?

    “I did not dream of this when thou wert straying,
  Like an unbound gazelle, among the flowers;
        Or wearing rosy hours,
  By the rich gush of water-sources playing,
  Then sinking weary to thy smiling sleep,
        So beautiful and deep.

    “O, no! and when I watch’d by thee the while,
  And saw thy bright lip curling in thy dream,
        And thought of the dark stream
  In my own land of Egypt, the far Nile,
  How pray’d I that my father’s land might be
        An heritage for thee!

    “And now the grave for its cold breast hath won thee,
  And thy white, delicate limbs the earth will press;
        And, O, my last caress
  Must feel thee cold, for a chill hand is on thee. 
  How can I leave my boy, so pillow’d there
        Upon his clustering hair!”

    She stood beside the well her God had given
  To gush in that deep wilderness, and bathed
  The forehead of her child until he laugh’d
  In his reviving happiness, and lisp’d
  His infant thought of gladness at the sight
  Of the cool plashing of his mother’s hand.

* * * * *

=_366._= UNSEEN SPIRITS.

  The shadows lay along Broadway,—­
    ’Twas near the twilight tide,—­
  And slowly there, a lady fair
    Was waiting in her pride. 
  Alone walked she, yet viewlessly
    Walked spirits at her side.