"The gales of June were breathing by,
The twilight's last faint rays were gleaming,
And midway in the moonless sky
The star of Love was brightly beaming.
"When by the stream, the birchen boughs
Dark o'er the level marge were playing,
The maiden of my secret vows
I met, alone, and idly straying.
"And since that hour,--for then my love
Consenting heard my passion pleaded,--
Full well she knows the star of Love,
And loves the stream with beeches shaded."
The poet had quite a lengthened season of darkness and despair after
this love-dream came to an end, and it must be confessed wrote a good
deal of very bad poetry, none of which he placed in collections of his
poems, but some of which have been published by his biographer. They are
rather worse than the usual run of such poems, which may indicate that
the feeling was really deeper,--too deep for expression in verse,--or
that it was not as deep and lasting as some of the first loves of poets.
As he had already written "Thanatopsis" and other fine poems, it is
rather surprising that there are so few gleams of the true poetic fire
in these amatory verses.
As is usual in such cases, he did not recover from the old love until he
had discovered a new one, and he did this in his new residence, not long
after his arrival there. The second lady of his choice was Miss Fanny
Fairchild, daughter of a well-to-do and respectable farmer on the Green
River. She was nineteen years old at the time, a "very pretty blonde,
small in person, with light-brown hair, gray eyes, a graceful shape, a
dainty foot, transparent and delicate hands, and a wonderfully frank and
sweet expression of face." She was as sensible as beautiful, and had
great charm of manner, which she retained to the end of her life. He
soon engaged himself to Miss Fairchild, and the course of their love ran
smoothly throughout a long life. To show with what deep feeling and
earnestness they entered upon their new relations, the following prayer,
dated 1820, has been printed, which was found among Mr. Bryant's private
papers after his death:--
"May God Almighty mercifully take care of our happiness here and
hereafter. May we ever continue constant to each other, and mindful
of our mutual promises of attachment and truth. In due time, if it
be the will of Providence, may we become more nearly connected with
each other, and together may we lead a long, happy, and innocent
life, without any diminution of affection till we die. May there
never be any jealousy, distrust, coldness, or dissatisfaction
between us, nor occasion for any,--nothing but kindness,
forbearance, mutual confidence, and attention to each other's
happiness. And that we may be less unworthy of so great a blessing,
may we be assisted to cultivate all the benign and charitable
affections and offices, not only toward each other, but toward our
neighbors, the human race, and all the creatures of God. And in
all things wherein we have done ill, may we properly repent our
error, and may God forgive us, and dispose us to do better. When at
last we are called to render back the life we have received, may
our deaths be peaceful, and may God take us to his bosom. All which
may He grant for the sake of the Messiah."
If ever a prayer was granted, it seems to have been so in this instance,
for in every detail it was fulfilled in the lives which followed. So
rarely beautiful a marriage has seldom been seen, as the one which was
entered into in this solemn and lofty manner, by this young and
high-minded couple. The days of their pilgrimage were many, but they
grew more and more beautiful until the final parting; and when the
separation at last came, in the fulness of time, the old poet mourned,
with a grief which could not be comforted, for the companion of his
youth, the delight of his mature years, and the idol of his old age.
Forty-five years they lived together, and after her death he wrote to
his brother:--
"We have been married more than forty-five years, and all my plans,
even to the least important, were laid with some reference to her
judgment or her pleasure. I always knew it would be the greatest
calamity of my life to lose her, but not till the blow fell did I
know how heavy it would be, and what a solitude the earth would
seem without her."