THE BAPTISM OF POCAHONTAS.
ON THE PICTURE IN THE ROTUNDA AT WASHINGTON.
Sweet, gentle girl! in holy meekness bending,
Though of a wilder race and darker hue;
Etherial light is on thy soul descending,
Loveliest of wild flowers! like thy native dew.
Seen in the struggling of that heaving breast,
The quivering lip—the downward, fawn-like eye,
The strange, deep penitence that will not rest,
That gushes tears, and vents the swelling sigh.