bathed in the dews of night, I beheld the gentle lady of
the place; she was alone, and walking pensively--now stooping, not to
pluck, but to admire, and then to leave amongst its mates, some crimson
beauty of the earth--now looking to the mountains of rich gold piled in
the heavens, one upon another, changing in form and colour, blending and
separating, as is their wondrous power and custom, filling the maiden's
soul with joy. Her back was toward me: should I advance, or now retire?
Vain question, when, ere an answer could be given, I was already at the
lady's side. Shall I tell of her virgin bashfulness, her blushes, her
trembling consciousness of pure affection? Shall I say how little her
tongue could speak her love, and how eloquently the dropping tear told
all! Shall I describe our morning's walk, her downward gaze--my
pride?--her deep, deep silence, my impassioned tones, the insensibilty
to all external things--the rushing on of envious Time, jealous of the
perfect happiness of man? The heart is wanting for the task--the pen is
shaking in the tremulous hand.--Beautiful vision! long associate of my
rest, sweetener of the daily cares of life, shade of the heavenly
one--beloved Ellen! hover still around me, and sustain my aching
soul--carry me back to the earliest days of our young love, quicken
every moment with enthusiasm--be my fond companion once again, and light
up the old man's latest hour with the fire that ceased to burn when thou
fleed'st heavenward! Thou hast been near me often since we parted here!
Whose smile but thine has cheered the labouring pilgrim through the
lagging day? In tribulation, whose voice has whispered _peace_--whose
eye hath shone upon him, like a star, tranquil and steady in the gloomy
night? Linger yet, and strengthen and hallow the feeble words, that
chronicle our love!

It would be impossible to conceive a woman more eminently fitted to
fulfil the duties of her station, than the gentle creature whose heart
it had been my happiness and fortune to make my own. Who could speak so
well of the _daughter's_ obedience as he who was the object of her
hourly solicitude? Who could behold her tenderness, her watchfulness and
care and not revere the filial piety that sanctified the maid? The poor,
most difficult of mankind to please, the easily offended, the jealous
and the peevish, were unanimous in their loud praise of her, whose
presence filled the foulest hut with light, and was the harbinger