C04 The Fbtver of Souvenance. QDbc. 



And breathed the vows which woman loves to hear 

 From him who wins her heart; yet she the while 

 Scarce told her rapture ; but the melting eye, 

 And the rich glow which blushed upon her cheek. 

 Spoke to the heart most eloquently well 

 All that a lover longs the most to know. 

 And he had twined a coronal of flowers. 

 Culled from the wild luxuriance around, 

 • With which he decked the golden curls which fell 



On her white neck, like sunshine upon snow. 

 Swearing they more became her than the gems 

 Which round her brow her father's hand would bind 

 Upon the morrow. 



And as there he crowned her. 

 And did her playful homage as his queen. 

 Her roving fancy fixed on some wild flowers 

 Blooming upon a little island's bank. 

 An arrow's flight or less amid the lake ; 

 She thought them lovely — with a woman's wish 

 She longed to have them ; — scarce the word was breathed. 

 When, with the utter recklessness which marks 

 Love's thoughtless votary, her lover plunged 

 Amid the waves, and soon with nervous arm 

 The distance passed, and plucked the envied prize. 

 But in returning, some unnoticed weeds 

 C'lung to his liinbs, and checked his rapid course ! 

 With hasty speed he struggled to be free. 

 But wound the fibres in a firmer net. 

 Mocking his powers ; while his lady love. 

 Half-conscious of his danger, yet afraid 

 To leave the spot, beckoned him on to land. 

 Collecting then his force, with giant strength 

 He burst the barrier. But, alas ! in vain : 

 For, like the last flash of a dying flame. 

 The effort left him weaker than before. 

 And all his energy could hardly gain 

 The steep and shelving bank ! With dying hand. 

 He threw the flowrets at the maiden's feet. 

 And while he cast a last fond look of love. 

 Cried to the fainting girl, " Forget-me-not !" 

 Then o'er his corse the closing waters rolled. 

 And he was not ; another soul had fled. 

 And knew the secrets of another world ! 

 The sun again shone gaily on the stream. 

 The earth was still as beautiful as ever. 

 Yet one lay senseless on the blooming turf. 

 Who when she woke would love the cloudy night. 

 And the thick darkness that the tempest broods in. 

 Better than all toe joys which life can give 

 To her whose sun is set, whose hope is blighted. 



G.W.H. 



