He only in soft accents seemed to say,
"Perchance I may behold thee yet again,
What time thy day shall more auspicious be,
And hope shall turn to joy in victory."
XXV.
The stranger past, and Williams, by the fire,
Long mused on this mysterious event:
Was it some seraph, robed in man's attire,
Come down to urge and hallow his intent?—
To counsel—kindle—and his breast inspire
With words of high prophetic sentiment?
Or had he dreamed and in his mind, as clear
As if in corporal presence, seen the seer?
XXVI.
'Twas strange—mysterious! Yet, if dream it were,
'Twas such as chosen men of old had known,
When Jacob saw the heaven-ascending stair,
And Joseph hoarded for the dearth foreshown.
Ah! did the Omniscient hear his earnest prayer,
And did e'en Heaven the glorious project own!
Then would he, by the morrow's earliest ray,
Unto the distant forest make his way.
XXVII.
He sought for rest, but feverous was his plight
For peaceful and refreshing sleep, I trow;
Still mused he on the morrow's toilsome flight,
Through unknown wilds and trackless wastes of snow;
How to elude the persecutor's sight,
Or shun the eager quest of following foe,
Tasked his invention with no labor light—
And long, and slow, and lagging was the night.
