"
"Give us thy legend, Hubert;" cried the maid;--
And, with down-dropping oars, our yielding prow
Shot to a still lagoon, whose ample shade
Droop'd from the gray moss of an old oak's brow:
The groves, meanwhile, lay bright,
Like the broad stream, in light,
Soft, sweet as ever yet the lunar loom display'd.
* * * * *
=_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.
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