of men. By him they past Along the darksome cave, and reach’d a stream, Still rolling onward its perpetual waves, Noiseless and undisturbed. Here they ascend A Bark unpiloted, that down the flood, Borne by the current, rush’d. The circling stream, Returning to itself, an island form’d; Nor had the Maiden’s footsteps ever reach’d The insulated coast, eternally Rapt round the endless course; but Theodore Drove with an angel’s will the obedient bark. They land, a mighty fabric meets their eyes, Seen by its gem-born light. Of adamant The pile was framed, for ever to abide Firm in eternal strength. Before the gate Stood eager Expectation, as to list The half-heard murmurs issuing from within, Her mouth half-open’d, and her head stretch’d forth. On the other side there stood an aged Crone, Listening to every breath of air; she knew Vague suppositions and uncertain dreams, Of what was soon to come, for she would mark The paley glow-worm’s self-created light, And argue thence of kingdoms overthrown, And desolated nations; ever fill’d With undetermin’d terror, as she heard Or distant screech-owl, or the regular beat Of evening death-watch. “Maid,” the Spirit cried, Here, robed in shadows, dwells Futurity. There is no eye hath seen her secret form, For round the Mother of Time, unpierced mists Aye hover. Would’st thou read the book of Fate, Enter.” The Damsel for a moment paus’d, Then to the Angel spake: “All-gracious Heaven! Benignant in withholding, hath denied To man that knowledge. I, in faith assured, That he, my heavenly Father, for the best Ordaineth all things, in that faith remain Contented.” “Well and wisely hast thou said, So Theodore replied; “and now O Maid! Is there amid this boundless universe One whom thy soul would visit? is there place To memory dear, or visioned out by hope, Where thou would’st now be present? form the wish, And I am with thee, there.” His closing speech Yet sounded on her ear, and lo! they stood Swift as the sudden thought that guided them, Within the little cottage that she loved. “He sleeps! the good man sleeps!” enrapt she cried, As bending o’er her Uncle’s lowly bed Her eye retraced his features. “See the beads That never morn nor night he fails to tell, Remembering me, his child, in every prayer. Oh! quiet be thy sleep, thou dear old man! Good Angels guard thy rest! and when thine hour Is come, as gently mayest thou wake to life, As when thro’ yonder lattice the next sun Shall bid thee to thy morning orisons! Thy voice is heard, the Angel guide rejoin’d, He sees thee in his dreams, he hears thee breathe Blessings, and pleasant is the good man’s rest. Thy fame has reached him, for who has not heard Thy wonderous exploits? and his aged heart Hath felt the deepest joy that ever yet Made his glad blood flow fast. Sleep on 

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