Blue-eyed spirit of balmy spring,
Bright young flowers to thee I bring,
Wreaths all tinged with hues divine,
Meet to rest on thy fairy shrine.
With these I invoke thy gentle care,
Queen of the earth and ambient air,
Come with the light of thy radiant skies,
Trace on the stream my true love's eyes,
Show me the face in the silvery deep,
Whose image for aye my heart may keep;
Bid the waters echoing shell,
Whisper the name thy breezes tell.
And still on the feast of Walburga's eve,
Bright young flowers to thee I'll give;
Beautiful spirit I've spoken the spell,
And offered the gift thou lovest well."
The last notes died suddenly away, and Ella, greatly agitated, threw herself into my arms. I enquired the cause of her terror, and forgetting her secrecy, she said a face had appeared to her on the stream. Just then we saw Conrad, who had followed on the same purpose I had, but had fallen and hurt his ancle, and was unable to proceed. He joined not with me when I laughed at Ella's fright, but a deeper paleness overspread his countenance. Raising his eyes to the heavens, they rested on a star beaming brightly in the blue—its mild radiance seemed to soothe him. See ye yonder, said he, how clear and unclouded the lustre of that shining orb—these words seemed irrelevant, but I knew their meaning. His knowledge of German literature had led him into the mazes of its mingled philosophy and wild romance. Astronomy and astrology were to him the same; the star to which he pointed was what he called the planet of his fate, and its brightness or obscurity were shadowed in his mind—its aspect caused him either joy or woe. The incident of Ella's fright agitated him much, for the occurrences of this real world were to him all tinged with the supernatural; but he looked again at the heavens, and the mild lustre of the star was reflected in his eyes; he leaned upon my arm, and we passed onward. I knew not then that his dark spirit felt the sunbeams which illumined mine own.
That same balmy evening I stood with Ella by the silver stream which traced its shining path around our home, watching the clear moonbeams as they flashed in the fairy foambells sparkling at our feet. There I first told my love—her hand was clasped in mine—she heard me, and raising her dewy eyes, said, "Dearest Ethel, I love you well; but not as she who weds must love you—be still to me my own dear friend and brother, and Ella will love you as she ever has. Ask not for more." She left me, and I saw a tear-drop gem the silken braid on her cheek, and thus my dream of beauty burst. My spirit's light grew dark as the treasured spell which bound me broke. Some hours passed in agony, such as none could feel but those who loved as I did—so deep, so fondly.
As I approached my home the warm evening light was streaming from the windows, and I heard her rich voice thrilling its wild melody. Every brow smiled upon her: even Conrad's was unbent. I looked upon her, and prayed she might never know a grief like mine. The ringing music of her laugh greeted my entrance, and ere the night had passed she charmed away my woe.
While these things occurred with us, the aspect of the times without had changed. America made war with England. What were her injuries we asked not, but 'twas not likely that we, come of a race who loved so well their "fatherland and king," would join with those who had risen against theirs. As yet the crisis was not come, and in New York British power was still triumphant.
Among the many festivities given by the officers, naval and military, then in the country, was a splendid ball on board a British frigate then in the harbour. To this scene of magic beauty and delight I accompanied Ella—'twas but a few days after that unhappy first of May; but the buoyant spirits of youth are soon rekindled, and Ella yet, I thought, might love me. The scene was so new, and withal so splendid in its details, that it comes before me now fresh and undimmed. The night was one of summer's softest, earliest beauty: the moonlight slept upon the still waters, and the tall masts, with all their graceful tracery of spar and line, were bathed with rich radiance, mingled with the hundred lights of coloured lamps, suspended from festoons of flowers; low couches stood along the bulwarks of the noble ship, and the meteor flag of England, which waved so oft amid the battle and the breeze, now wafted its ruby cross o'er fair forms gliding through the dance, to the rich strains of merry music—'twas an hour that sent glad feeling to the heart. The gay dresses and noble bearing of the military officers, all glistening in scarlet and gold, contrasted well with the white robes and delicate beauty of the fair girls by their sides. But they had their rivals in the gallant givers of the fete. Many a lady's heart was lost that night. "What is it always makes a sailor so dangerous a rival?" Ella used to say, when rallied on her partiality for a "bluejacket," that she loved it because it was the colour of so many things dear to her: the sky was blue, the waves of the deep mysterious sea were blue, and the wreaths of that fairy flower, which bears the magic name forget-me-not, were of the same charmed hue. Some such reason, I suppose, it is that makes every maiden love a sailor.
While we stood gazing on the scene, enchanted and delighted, one came near and joined our group. Nobility of mind and birth was written on his brow in beauty's brightest traits. He seemed hardly nineteen, but, young as he was, many a wild breeze had parted the wavy ringlets of his hair, and the salt spray of the ocean raised a deeper hue on his cheek. His light and graceful figure was clad in the becoming costume of his rank, and on his richly braided bosom rested three half blown roses. Ella's eyes for an instant met his, they fell upon the flowers, and she dropped fainting from my arm. The mystery was soon explained. De Clairville, such was the stranger's name, had been walking on the cliffs when Ella sought the stream—he heard her voice and approached to see from whence it came—his was the face she had seen upon the waters; he heard her scream, and descended to apologise, but she was gone, and he had found and worn her rose buds—
"Oh! there are looks and tones that dart
An instant sunshine through the heart,
As if the soul that instant caught
Some treasure it through life had sought;
As if the very lips and eyes,
Predestined to have all our sighs,
And never be forgot again,
Sparkled and spoke before us then."
So sings the poet, and so seemed it with Ella and De Clairville; and when the rosy morn, tinging the eastern sky, announced to the revellers the hour of parting, that night of happiness was deemed too short.
To hasten on my story, I must merely say that they became fondly attached, and when De Clairville departed for another station, he left Ella as his betrothed bride. On love such as theirs 'twould seem to all that heaven smiled; but inscrutable to human eyes are the ways of Providence, for deadly was the blight thrown o'er them.