IV.

    And now, their rustic banquet done, And sheltered from the noontide sun By the old willow's pleasant shade, The guest and host the scene surveyed； Marked how the mountain's mighty base The valley's course was seen to trace； Marked how its graceful azure crest Against the sky's blue arch was pressed, And how its long and rocky chain Was parted suddenly in twain, Where through a chasm, wide and deep, Potomac's rapid waters sweep, While rocks that press the mountain's brow, Nod o'er his waves far, far below；（） Marked how those waves, in one broad blaze, Threw back the sun's meridian rays, And, flashing as they rolled along, Seemed all alive with light and song； Marked how green bower and garden showed Where rose the husbandman's abode, And how the village walls were seen To glimmer with a silvery sheen, Such as the Spaniard saw, of yore, Hang over Tenuchtitlan's walls, When maddened with the lust of gore, He came to desecrate her halls； To fire her temples, towers, and thrones, And turn her songs of peace to groans.

    They gazed, till from the hermit's eye A tear stole slow and silently； A tear, which Memory's hand had taken From a deep fountain long congealed； A tear, which showed how strongly shaken The heart must be, which thus revealed, Through time's dim shadows, gathering fast, Its recollections of the past； Then, as a sigh escaped his breast, Thus spake the hermit to his guest.