“The secrets of the living rock,
Deep hid from man’s divining rod,
A spark may open, and the shock
Bring forth an ingot or a toad: 
The secret that is kept for years,
One stroke of fate yields to the sight;
And if the toad a jewel wears,
That jewel may have lost its light.

“Begone ye hopes of tender ties,
Of smiling home with wife and child,
Of all love’s tender sympathies,
That once a rugged soul beguiled! 
In vain may Beauty deck her crown,
And winning Goodness try her plan,
I trust no more—­the guile of ONE
Hath changed me to a savage man.

“If in this world I smile again,
Twill be to see the charming eye
Like hers—­the smile—­each effort plain,
And think I can them all defy. 
You tell me these are Nature’s ways,
But Nature tells me to beware;
And while each angler smiling plays,
So shall I play to shun the snare.

“Mocked by the glamour of the eye,
I dread all things surpassing fair;
The sweetest flower but makes me sigh
To think there may be poison there. 
Were I inclined to change my part,
And seek again domestic peace,
I’d seek for beauties in the heart,
Though seen through a revolting face.

“By the heart-pulses of my love,
By all the things once dear to me,
By every tree within the grove,
By every bird upon the tree,
By every tint upon its wing,
By every note of melodie
That close by HER I’ve heard it sing,
Cursed be the dame of Dowielee.”

VII.

Burde Olive sat at the evening hour
Within her mother’s painted bower: 
It was a ruthless winter night. 
When beasts and birds cowered with affright
From brattling winds that, roving free,
Moaned in the woods of Dowielee. 
A wanderer knelt beside her chair,
And spoke these words of tearful prayer: 

THE APPEAL.

“When Justice sought the skies above,
She left on earth her sister, LOVE,
And heaven-born MERCY staid behind
On purpose to console mankind. 
The silly sheep that left one day
The winter’s beild and went astray,
Did not, when weary, worn, and old,
Seek all in vain the shepherd’s fold! 
And He, the Shepherd without sin,
Felt for the contrite Magdalene,
And gave her hope—­her sin forgiven—­
That she would join the fold in heaven: 
And shall my Olive while on earth
Forgive not her who gave her birth? 
Oh! turn on me a smiling face,
Forgiving eyes—­a look of grace.”

But Olive turned her face away—­
Her father’s spirit whispered Nay—­
His hastened death, his curse forbade: 
She trembled and was sore afraid;
Yet father’s daughter, meek and mild,
Was she not, too, the mother’s child?

Then he was gone, and she was here: 
Her eye acknowledges the tear
Of brooding nature all confessed—­
She falls upon the wanderer’s breast! 
No more the veil obscures the frame—­
The curse is taken from the name.