136 REDEMPTION.
So far removed from rectitude of aim, Or wish its pristine righteousness to gain.
'Twas on a day to sacred rest disposed, The beauteous Mother stood beside her Son. The place was sacred held, where oft the twain, This Adam and his spotless Eve, communed; Mother and Son communed, when morning rose, At day's nigh noon, and when still evening wrapt Its veil of golden beauty round the scene, Or deepen'd into shades of thoughtful night, The hour of meditation, when the soul, Untrammell'd by the things of time and sense, Mounts up from nature to her primal Source. A range of hills, with freshest verdure coped, And stately trees, enclosed the valley round. Broad elms here lift their venerable heads, The sycamine its dark green foliage blends With clust'ring chesnut's not less pleasing growth, Whilst avenues of walnut, holm, inspersed Midst fruitful olives, citrons, wave their leaves, To gentlest influence of the evening breeze. Nor stately tree, nor verdant shrub alone, Oped their long vistas to inviting view, And bade the weary court their ambient shade ; But every plant, each fruit, pleasant to sight, Taste, smell, or good for use, domestic, grew, While down each slope, bloom'd sweetest flow'rs, Diffusing grateful odors through the air. Amid the garden native fountains sprang, Tossing their playful waters, crystal clear, Till amber streams with sweet reluctant flow, Not void of life, coursing their pebbly beds,
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