Classic Poem

The heavens are again serene,
The summer sun on high is glowing,
Again the woods and vales are green,
And flowers bloom, and streams are flowing;
But whither is young Lawo going,
That thus, beneath the noontide heat,
We see him up the river rowing
His little bark so fleet.

Onward he looks, the waters roll,
Still winding through the gloomy waste,
And many a cataract and shoal
He yet shall meet to mock his haste:
But though his bark were even-paced
With thought, alas! his speed were vain:
The pleasure that he flies to taste
His soul shall never feel again.

To night young Orra's father gives,
In yonder vale, a gay repast;
For there the beauteous maiden lives,
And thither Lawo goes so fast;
Now see how bends his slender mast,
And how his bark strikes up the spray!
Oh! heaven grant the breeze may last,
For he but ill can brook delay.

Yet no repast shall Lawo share,
Far other hopes inflame his breast;
He seeks alone young Orra there,
Nor looks for pleasure from the rest.
And though no welcome be expressed
So near her reverend father's ear,
The maid has smiled on many a guest
By far less welcome, and less dear.

And now he sees the destined vale
Before him wide and far expand,
And furls at last his drooping sail,
And moors his bark upon the sand:
Impatient from his weary hand,
The youth has flung the dripping oar,
And gladly now has gained the land,
And trembling stands at Orra's door.

At intervals his Orra's name
He hears, with many a tend'rer word;
He knocks, but no one to him came;
Again he knocks, but no one stirr'd.
But now young Orra's voice is heard
Far sweeter than the sweetest lay
That e'er the many-tongued bird
Chants in the woods on summer's day.

She sings — but not as erst she sung;
For, though it be a lively strain,
It falters on her trembling tongue,
And speaks a soul oppressed with pain;
But her distress would never gain
The pity of that noisy throng;
And Orra, scorning to complain,
Thus cloaks her woe in lively song.

ORRA'S SONG

I stood by the ocean at break of day!
My deer in the pasture keeping;
And low on the greensward a youth there lay
In the shade of a willow sleeping.

His beautiful limbs they were dripping with dew,
On the thistle he rested his head;
But deep was his slumber, and little he knew,
That I bent o'er his flowery bed.

Then smiling, the stranger arose from the ground,
And he shewed me the glittering sea;
Far over those waters my shallop is bound,
He said, wilt thou wander with me?

O no, I replied, though I knew thee most true
Of lovers beneath the fair sun,
Believe me, young stranger, in vain wouldst thou sue —
My heart is not thus to be won.

Then he looked in my face, 'twas a piteous look,
And my hand he began to wring;
I know, he rejoined, thy young soul could not brook
The woes that from poverty spring.

The sun glows on high, and the weather is fair,
I will fly to the desert ere winter begins;
The ermine I'll take, and the fox from his lair,
And my bark will be laden with choicest skins.

And my bed shall be made of the dusky fern,
Where the thistle is waving its purple flower;
And no more to my dwelling will I return
Till I gain for my Orra a wedding dower.

But still, I replied, though I knew thee most true
Of lovers beneath the fair sun,
Believe me, young stranger, in vain wouldst thou sue —
For my heart is not thus to be won.

Those notes had scarcely died away —
The cadence yet was on her tongue —
When thus responsive to her lay
Young Lawo sung —

" And tell me then, Orra, was that the day
When last we met by the ocean side?
And was it that coldness which made thee say
Thou ne'er would'st be any but Lawo's bride?"

Her name young Orra trembling heard,
And, blushing, turned her head aside;
Her sire, too, caught the fatal word,
And saw the blush she strove to hide.
" That blush by which thy cheek is dyed, —
Thy voice so tremulous and broken, —
Betray thy love," the old man cried,
" Nor need I any other token."

Then fast from Orra's azure eyes
Full many a bitter tear there fell,
And her breast — as to the watery skies
The sea will rise — began to swell,
For Orra loved her sire full well,
And love she knew to him was due;
But then she felt a nameless spell
That bound her to her lover too.

Her sire with kind paternal eye,
Relenting, marked his daughter's woe,
And sighed, and almost wondered why
He should have frowned upon her so.
Ah! who is he that does not know
How sweetly woman's tears beguile?
Or if his anger made them flow,
Who could withhold the healing smile?

Thus did the tears of that loved maid
Her father's anger soon subdue,
But, ere his feelings were betrayed,
Young Lawo, ent'ring, met his view:
" Vain youth," said he, " and who are you?
Come you to mar our evening cheer?
Or will you join these fav'rite few?
Whence come you? and what would you here?"

Thus Lawo: " Pr'y thee, Sir, unbend
Thy brow, nor harbour idle fear;
I come not here but as a friend,
Though not to taste your evening cheer:
I am a wand'ring mountaineer,
Nor do I fear to own the name;
I've left my roving tribe, and here
Am come my promised bride to claim.

" While the mild summer yet was young,
When last we to the ocean strayed,
Ere yet the summer birds had sung
Their thrilling notes in the woodland shade,
My wand'ring tribe awhile delayed
Their erring course by the ocean side,
To feed their deer upon the glade,
And fish in the now unfrozen tide.

" Once as I watched the grazing herd,
Where trees a gloomy shadow threw
Around; as blithsome as a bird,
I whiled my time with the sweet harpu;
There first that maiden met my view,
Who at thy side in anguish weeps,
And there that passion first I knew,
Which still my heart in thraldom keeps.

" As graceful as the silvery cloud
That glides upon the summer air,
She moved, a monarch might be proud,
The love of such a form to share;
I marked her shape, her flowing hair,
And eyes of bright ethereal blue,
And Oh! I thought, a form so fair
The liveliest fancy never drew.

" The lovely maiden went her way,
There passed few words between us then,
But on the next propitious day,
Again we met within the glen,
Again, again, and yet again
She smiling came to meet me there:
Oh bliss beyond the bliss of men,
To share the smile of one so fair!

" I need not tell how warm a flame
Her beauty kindled in my breast;
And why was Orra much to blame
If she a mutual love confessed?
But see, this Cup will tell the rest,
O'erflowing with the nuptial wine:
Receive it — and thou mak'st me blest,
Refuse it — misery is mine."

Young Lawo watched the old man's eyes
And read his doom ere he began,
Quick from his cheek the colour flies,
And through his frame a tremor ran;
" Youth," said the venerable man,
" I cannot take the proffered wine, —
Thy suit alas! is vain, nor can
The maid thou askest e'er be thine.

" Though not in her esteem hast thou
A rival — yet thou hast in mine;
And here his tribe are sitting now,
Rejoicing o'er th' accepted wine;
Thick as the stars in heaven that shine,
Are the deer his native fields display,
And boats to glide through ocean brine,
And sledges for the snowy way

" He hath — though these alone, 'tis true,
Can never make us blest," he said;
" But thou art of the wand'ring crew,
And hast not where to lay thy head.
Then can that tender maiden wed
To join thy rude and roving band,
Perhaps to beg her daily bread,
A vagrant in her native land?"

The crisis of his doom is past:
From his full heart he gave a sigh
As if his soul would breathe its last;
And downward turned his tearful eye;
Nor could he utter a reply,
But muttered forth a faint farewell,
And quickly turned for e'er to fly
From Orra and her native dell.

And he again has spread his sail
And, like an eagle on the wind,
He glides along before the gale,
And leaves his Orra far behind:
But still in his perturbed mind
Her image dwells, though out of sight;
Nor can the charms of womankind
Again afford his soul delight.