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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=455712" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Alien Boy</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Twas on a Mountain, near the Western Main<br>An ALIEN dwelt. A solitary Hut<br>Built on a jutting crag, o'erhung with weeds,<br>Mark'd the poor Exile's home. Full ten long years<br>The melancholy wretch had liv'd unseen<br>By all, save HENRY, a lov'd, little Son<br>The partner of his sorrows. On the day<br>When Persecution, in the sainted guise<br>Of Liberty, spread wide its venom'd pow'r,<br>The brave, Saint HUBERT, fled his Lordly home,<br>And, with his baby Son, the mountain sought.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Resolv'd to cherish in his bleeding breast<br>The secret of his birth, Ah! birth too high<br>For his now humbled state, from infancy<br>He taught him, labour's task: He bade him chear<br>The dreary day of cold adversity<br>By patience and by toil. The Summer morn<br>Shone on the pillow of his rushy bed;<br>The noontide, sultry hour, he fearless past<br>On the shagg'd eminence; while the young Kid<br>Skipp'd, to the cadence of his minstrelsy.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">At night young HENRY trimm'd the faggot fire<br>While oft, Saint HUBERT, wove the ample net<br>To snare the finny victim. Oft they sang<br>And talk'd, while sullenly the waves would sound<br>Dashing the sandy shore. Saint HUBERT'S eyes<br>Would swim in tears of fondness, mix'd with joy,<br>When he observ'd the op'ning harvest rich<br>Of promis'd intellect, which HENRY'S soul,<br>Whate'er the subject of their talk, display'd.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oft, the bold Youth, in question intricate,<br>Would seek to know the story of his birth;<br>Oft ask, who bore him: and with curious skill<br>Enquire, why he, and only one beside,<br>Peopled the desart mountain ? Still his Sire<br>Was slow of answer, and, in words obscure,<br>Varied the conversation. Still the mind<br>Of HENRY ponder'd; for, in their lone hut,<br>A daily journal would Saint HUBERT make<br>Of his long banishment: and sometimes speak<br>Of Friends forsaken, Kindred, massacred;--<br>Proud mansions, rich domains, and joyous scenes<br>For ever faded,--lost!<br>One winter time,<br>'Twas on the Eve of Christmas, the shrill blast<br>Swept o'er the stormy main. The boiling foam<br>Rose to an altitude so fierce and strong</div><div style="margin:10px 0">That their low hovel totter'd. Oft they stole<br>To the rock's margin, and with fearful eyes<br>Mark'd the vex'd deep, as the slow rising moon<br>Gleam'd on the world of waters. 'Twas a scene<br>Would make a Stoic shudder! For, amid<br>The wavy mountains, they beheld, alone ,<br>A LITTLE BOAT, now scarcely visible;<br>And now not seen at all; or, like a buoy,<br>Bounding, and buffetting, to reach the shore!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now the full Moon, in crimson lustre shone<br>Upon the outstretch'd Ocean. The black clouds<br>Flew stiffly on, the wild blast following,<br>And, as they flew, dimming the angry main<br>With shadows horrible ! Still, the small boat<br>Struggled amid the waves, a sombre speck<br>Upon the wide domain of howling Death!<br>Saint HUBERT sigh'd ! while HENRY'S speaking eye<br>Alternately the stormy scene survey'd<br>And his low hovel's safety. So past on<br>The hour of midnight,--and, since first they knew<br>The solitary scene, no midnight hour<br>E'er seem'd so long and weary.<br>While they stood,<br>Their hands fast link'd together, and their eyes<br>Fix'd on the troublous Ocean, suddenly<br>The breakers, bounding on the rocky shore,<br>Left the small wreck; and crawling on the side<br>Of the rude crag,--a HUMAN FORM was seen!<br>And now he climb'd the foam-wash'd precipice,<br>And now the slip'ry weeds gave way, while he<br>Descended to the sands: The moon rose high--<br>The wild blast paus'd, and the poor shipwreck'd Man<br>Look'd round aghast, when on the frowning steep<br>He marked the lonely exiles. Now he call'd<br>But he was feeble, and his voice was lost<br>Amid the din of mingling sounds that rose<br>From the wild scene of clamour.<br>Down the steep<br>Saint HUBRET hurried, boldly venturous,<br>Catching the slimy weeds, from point to point,<br>And unappall'd by peril. At the foot<br>Of the rude rock, the fainting mariner<br>Seiz'd on his outstretch'd arm; impatient, wild,<br>With transport exquisite ! But ere they heard<br>The blest exchange of sounds articulate,<br>A furious billow, rolling on the steep,<br>Engulph'd them in Oblivion!<br>On the rock<br>Young HENRY stood; with palpitating heart,<br>And fear-struck, e'en to madness ! Now he call'd,<br>Louder and louder, as the shrill blast blew;<br>But, mid the elemental strife of sounds,<br>No human voice gave answer ! The clear moon<br>No longer quiver'd on the curling main,<br>But, mist-encircled, shed a blunted light,<br>Enough to shew all things that mov'd around,<br>Dreadful, but indistinctly ! The black weeds<br>Wav'd, as the night-blast swept them; and along<br>The rocky shore the breakers, sounding low<br>Seem'd like the whisp'ring of a million souls<br>Beneath the green-deep mourning.<br>Four long hours<br>The lorn Boy listen'd ! four long tedious hours<br>Pass'd wearily away, when, in the East<br>The grey beam coldly glimmer'd. All alone<br>Young HENRY stood aghast : his Eye wide fix'd;<br>While his dark locks, uplifted by the storm<br>Uncover'd met its fury. On his cheek<br>Despair sate terrible ! For, mid the woes,<br>Of poverty and toil, he had not known,<br>Till then, the horror-giving chearless hour<br>Of TOTAL SOLITUDE!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He spoke--he groan'd,<br>But no responsive voice, no kindred tone<br>Broke the dread pause: For now the storm had ceas'd,<br>And the bright Sun-beams glitter'd on the breast<br>Of the green placid Ocean. To his Hut<br>The lorn Boy hasten'd; there the rushy couch,<br>The pillow still indented, met his gaze<br>And fix'd his eye in madness.--From that hour<br>A maniac wild, the Alien Boy has been;<br>His garb with sea-weeds fring'd, and his wan cheek<br>The tablet of his mind, disorder'd, chang'd,<br>Fading, and worn with care. And if, by chance,<br>A Sea-beat wand'rer from the outstretch'd main<br>Views the lone Exile, and with gen'rous zeal<br>Hastes to the sandy beach, he suddenly<br>Darts 'mid the cavern'd cliffs, and leaves pursuit<br>To track him, where no footsteps but his own,<br>Have e'er been known to venture ! YET HE LIVES<br>A melancholy proof that Man may bear<br>All the rude storms of Fate, and still suspire<br>By the wide world forgotten!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Mary+Darby+Robinson">Mary Darby Robinson</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=455712" data-title="The Alien Boy de Mary Darby Robinson" data-description="'Twas on a Mountain, near the Western Main
An ALIEN dwelt. A solitary Hut
Built on a jutting crag, o'erhung with weeds,
Mark'd the poor Exile's home. Full ten long years
The melancholy wretch had liv'd unseen
By all, save HENRY, a lov'd, little So..."></div>
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