The sun was sinking in the far-off west;
The hour was near at hand for labourers’ rest;
And the fair moon, ascending to invest
The vast impurpling dome of coming night
With her transcendent beams of silvery light,
Was riding onward in her chair of state;
While he[186]—her lord and sovereign potentate—
Roll’d down th’ horizon o’er the western seas
To render day to the Antipodes.
Dear Philomela, issuing from its cave,
Peal’d forth its plaint upon the breezy wave;
And whilst gratuitous its hymn, thus given,
Was floating on the balmy winds of heaven—
Arnold embraced the moments as they flew,
Kiss’d his dear girl, prepared for his adieu,
And bade farewell,—but ere the last was spoken
He’d made a promise never to be broken;
(’Less Death, regardless of the night, the day,
Should interpose his awful majesty;)
And to impress with due solemnity
The parting vow on these meek peasantry
He gave to Jane—himself proud of the gift—
A locket which his grandmother had left
Him when a babe, which (dazzling to the eyes,
Of envious worth and of capacious size,)
“You’ll keep,” he said, “until I have fulfill’d
The bond which now is in thy breast instill’d:
And you, dear Hollybrand, pray deign t’receive
Before from thy dear cot I take my leave
This little token[187] of my kind regards—
’Twill tell thee, George,” said Arnold, “more than words—
Far more than I at this late hour can tell:”
And with these gifts he bade them both farewell!
Whilst Arnold Mountjoy to the village trod;
The cottagers confided in their God.
[186] The Sun.
[187] A purse containing some gold.