18D AGNES OF HIGH SUNUERLAND. 



The cool winds faint murmurs the maids sighs returning, 

 Whilst waves of grief heaved o'er her bosom so white, — 



And now to thee, fair onB, I come with my story. 

 To melt thee in pity, or shake thee in fear. 



And to cheer the lone heart of the wanderer hoary, 

 I ask no reward save a sigh or a tear, — 



Now friendless, forsaken, once blest with a daughter 



Whose beauty outi'ivalled the bloom of the rose. 

 Where once I called home, lies afar o'er the water, 



Whose music has oft soothed that dear one's repose — 

 No bird o'er the nest of its young ones did hover 



More watchful to guai'd them from danger and care, 

 No heart ever beat in the breast ot a lover. 



So fondly as mine for that daughter so fair; — 



From her lips came the souls of sweet violets breathing, 

 Through portals of pearl amid coral enshrined, 



And her wandering locks o'er her bosom enwreathing. 

 Kept trembling in time to the heart they entwined ; — 



she was a jewel, I prized her too dearly, 



1 gazed on her form till all hope centred there, 



And still tho' I weep my heart loves her sincerely, 



But alas ! what is love if it feeds on despair. — 



No miser more jealously guarded his treasure, 



Or screened it more closely from eyes of the world. 



Or gloated more selfishly over his pleasure, 



Than I as Time's touches her beauties unfnrled. — 



High on the rocks which disdaining the anger 

 Of waves that lay baffled and raging in foam, 



1 reared a huge castle to shield her from danger, 



Where none save the sea-birds had dared to make home. 



And high, in its uppermost turret I placed her. 



From which she oft gazed o'er the waters expanse, 

 And the cool breath of ocean has softly embraced her, 



As if in return for her sweet loving glance. 

 And many the hours her head has laid nestling, 



On my bosom that burned with its love and its pride. 

 Nor knew she the forces within that were wrestling. 



As she saw but the father she loved at her side. — 



One eve the waves lay as though weary of tumbling. 

 No breeze roused a ripple to wake them from sleep, 



