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“My Henry, I have given thee much, I
gave what I can ne'er recall, I gave my heart, I gave my peace,
O Heaven ! I gave thee all.”
The Knight made answer to the Maid,
None statelier in the land.
“ The fairest one shall be my love's,
The fairest shall be thine:
“Wait only till the hand of eve
Beneath the twinkling stars!”-
“ The dark? the dark? No! not the dark ? The twinkling stars? How, Henry? How? O God ! 'twas in the eye of noon
He pledged his sacred vow!
“And in the eye of noon my love
Strewing flowers before :
But first the nodding minstrels go With music meet for lordly bowers,
The children next in snow-white vests,
Strewing buds and flowers !
« And then my love and I shall pace, My jet black hair in pearly braids, Between our comely bachelors
And blushing bridal maids."
AT midnight by the stream I roved,
To forget the form I loved. Image of Lewti! from my mind Depart; for Lewti is not kind.
The Moon was high, the moonlight gleam
And the shadow of a star Heaved upon Tamaha's stream ;
But the rock shone brighter far, The rock half shelter'd from my view By pendent boughs of tressy yew.So shines my Lewti's forehead fair, Gleaming through her sable hair. Image of Lewti! from my mind Depart; for Lewti is not kind.
Morning Post, April 13, 1798.
[I saw the white waves, o'er and o'er,
I saw a cloud of palest hue,
Onward to the moon it pass'd;
Till it reach'd the moon at last :
And with such joy I find my Lewti ; And even so my pale wan cheek
Drinks in as deep a flush of beauty ! Nay, treacherous image! leave my mind, If Lewti never will be kind.
The little cloud-it floats away,
Away it goes; away so soon ?
Alas! it has no power to stay :
Away it passes from the moon !
Ever fading more and more, To joyless regions of the sky
And now 'tis whiter than before ! As white as my poor cheek will be,
When, Lewti ! on my couch I lie, A dying man for love of thee. Nay, treacherous image! leave my mindAnd yet, thou didst not look unkind.
I saw a vapour in the sky,
Thin, and white, and very high ; I ne'er beheld so thin a cloud :
Perhaps the breezes that can fly
Now below and now above,
Of lady fair—that died for love.
I cannot choose but fix my sight
Bedims the star that shines behind it;
And pity dwells in Lewti's breast,
Alas! if I knew how to find it. And 0 ! how sweet it were, I wist,
To see my Lewti's eyes to-morrow
Of pity and repentant sorrow !
Hush ! my heedless feet from under
Slip the crumbling banks for ever : Like echoes to a distant thunder,
They plunge into the gentle river. The river-swans have heard my tread, And startle from their reedy bed. O beauteous birds ! methinks ye measure
Your movements to some heavenly tune ! O beauteous birds ! 'tis such a pleasure
To see you move beneath the moon,
I know the place where Lewti lies
It is a breezy jasmine-bower,
Voice of the night! had I the power