POETRY. ^ ,935 



Drew tears ! ivhile ever)' voice faintly prononnc'd 



" Anna !" But thou, lov'd harp, whose strings havs rung 



To louder tones, oh ! let my hand, awhile. 



The wires more softly touch, whilst I rehearse 



Her name and fate, who in this desert deep, 



Far from the world, from friends and kindred, fouud 



Her long and last abode, there, where no aye 



ISIight shed a tear on her remains ; no heart 



Sigh in remembrance of her fate : 



She left 

 The Severn's side, and fled with him she lov'd 

 O'er the w ide main ; for he had told her tales 

 Of happiness in distant lands, where care 

 Comes not, and pointing to the golden clouds 

 That shone above the waves, when ev'ning came, 

 Whisper'd, '• O are there not sweet scenes of peace 

 " Far from the murmurs of this cloudy mart, 

 " Where gold alone bears sw ay, scenes of delight, 

 " Where Love may lay his head upon the lap 

 " Of Innocence, and smile at all the toil 

 " Of the low-thoughtcd throng, that place in wealth 

 *' Their only bliss ? Yes, there are scenes like these. 

 " Leave the vain chidings of the world behind, 

 " Country, and hollow friends, and fly with me 

 " Where love and peace in distant vales invite. 

 " What would'st thou here ? O shall thy beauteous look 

 " Of maiden innocence, thy smile of youth, thine eyes 

 *' Of tenderness and soft subdu'd desire, 

 " Thy form, thy limbs,— oh, madness !— be the prey, 

 " Of a decrepid spoiler, and for gold ? 

 " Perish his treasure with him. Haste with mo, 

 " We shall find out some sylvan nook, and then 

 " If thou should'st sometimes think upon these hills, 

 " When they are distant far, and drop a tear, 

 li Yes— I will kiss it from thy cheek, and clasp 

 <' Thy angel beauties closer to my breast, 

 « And while the winds blow o'er us, and the sun 

 " Goes beautifully down, and thy soft cheek 

 " Reclines on mine, I will infold thee thus, 

 " And proudly cry, my friend — my love — my wife!" 



So tempted he, and soon her heart approv'd, 

 Nay woo'd, the blissful dream ; and oft at eve, 

 When the moon shone upon the wand'ring stream, 

 She pac'd the castle's battlements, that threw 

 I'-eneath, their solemn shadow, and, resign'd 

 To fancy aud to tears, thought it most sweet 



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