IV.

But see! upon the hillside glows,
Unmoving, bright, a sudden light!
Oh joyous sight, 'tis his, she knows!
New hope, new life, new strength she gains;
It feeds her brain with will—with warmth her veins
And now she is aware how on the right
A mountain spur, as if in friendly guise
Has stolen forward to surprise
And catch—say rather, to embrace her!
How high the hills that darkly face her
Have grown! the darkly-branching trees
Are mingling with the stars, she sees:
page 188 A kind of gentle stir is in the air—
Faint sounds of life, though life at rest, are there.
Two loud harsh notes assail her ear—
The night-hawk's! harsh but yet so near!
She blest them 1 to her present plight
Seemed never song-bird's notes so dear,
So sweet, as that melodious screech
Startling the darkness with delight.
With desperate strokes she presses forward fast—
She feels that they must be her last.
With downthrust foot she strives to reach—
O joy! O bliss—she feels for and has found,
Can touch that deep salvation—the firm ground!
One stroke—one other yet—-a moment more
She staggers, falls—upon the pumice-whitened shore.