With tears of gratitude;—he could outbrave
The stake’s grim tortures, and could smiling sit
Amid surrounding foes; yet kindness could
Subdue to tears this “stoic of the wood.”
LXII.
He clasped our Father by the hand and led
Him up, in silence, to the mountain’s crown;
And there, from snow-capt outlook at its head,
They gazed o’er bay and isle and forest brown.
It seemed a summer’s eve in winter bred;