To that same port where Cedric landed with
His Zola, others came from distant parts.
Some came to seek their fortunes, others came
To buy and till the soil, some to obey
The inborn instinct of the pioneer.
One family, leaving all behind, had bro’t
A sickly child. Rich and prosperous they
Had been, and with children blessed; but a dread
Contagion had swept them all away save
One; and he, left delicate and frail, the
Idol of their hopes--no other left to
Keep the family name. From those who best could
Speak, they learned there was no hope unless it be
In taking him to that fair, sunny clime.
They hastened there and gave him for his home
A quaint old hacienda of the Dons;
With many leagues of land that lay between
The mountains and the sea. There amid the
Orange groves and vineyards, in the freedom
Of the range where roamed his father’s flocks and
Herds, young Gilbert soon became a gay young
Caballero--grew as strong and fearless
As vaqueros of the range--could twirl the
Lariat or aim the rifle true as they.
Sunburned, strong and handsome was Gilbert, in
Showy costume of the Dons, with clanking
Spurs, gold-mounted trappings on his coal-black
Leo, ambling thro’ the massive arches
Of the mission. Señoritas smiled on
Him; he returned their loving glances. This
His parents seeing, feared their Angelo
Blood be mixed with that of darker hue, besought
Him to return to their old home and there
To find a bride of his own faith and kind.
He quieted their fears and said that he
Was wedded to the mesa and the hills.
He loved the mountains more than ever
Bridegroom loved his bride, his heart was free;
But kind and true and dutiful to them,
He promised solemnly that he would do
As they desired before he took a wife;
For ne’er could he repay the love and care
By them bestowed on him, their sacrifice.
Foremost in all manly sports, he reckless
Rode along the beach where foaming breakers
Lashed the cliffs, fleet-footed Leo dashed between.
His black horse was known on El Camino
Real--far beyond the shady groves of
Monte Vista. He loved the mountains
And on their bosom laid his head beneath
The starlit skies, companion of their silence,
Partaker of their rest. In midnight darkness
Could he thread the winding Indian trail
Across the high Cuyamacas, and often
Had he reached the base of Palomar, and
Longed to see beyond its frowning granite
Walls. At last, undaunted, came nearly to
The summit--came where a deep-walled canyon held
Him back, there rested. The autumn sun was
Slowly sinking to the sea and bathed the
Mountain side in flood of rosy-tinted
Brilliancy.