Strange fits of passion I have known:

And I will dare to tell,

But in the Lover's ear alone,

What once to me befel.

When she I loved, was strong and gay

And like a rose in June,

I to her cottage bent my way,

Beneath the evening Moon.

Upon the Moon I fixed my eye,

All over the wide lea:

My Horse trudged on-and we drew nigh

Those paths so dear to me.

And now we reached the orchard plot ;
And, as we climbed the hill,

Towards the roof of Lucy's cot

The Moon descended still.

In one of those sweet dreams I slept,'
Kind Nature's gentlest boon!

And, all the while, my eyes I kept

On the descending Moon.

My Horse moved on; hoof after hoor

He raised, and never stopped:

When down behind the cottage roof

At once the Planet dropped.

What fond and wayward thoughts will slide

Into a Lover's head

"O mercy!" to myself I cried,

"If Lucy should be dead!"

She dwelt among th' untrodden ways
Beside the springs of Dove,

A Maid whom there were none to praise,

A Violet by a mossy stone

Half-hidden from the eye!

-Fair as a star, when only one

Is shining in the sky.

She lived unknown, and few could know

When Lucy ceased to be;

But she is in her Grave, and oh!

The difference to me.

A slumber did my spirit seal;

I had no human fears:

She seemed a thing that could not feel The touch of earthly years.

No motion has she now, no force
She neither hears nor sees,

Rolled round in earth's diurnal course

With rocks and stones and trees!

THE

WATERFALL

AND

The EGLANTINE.

"Begone, thou fond presumptuous Elf,"

Exclaimed a thundering Voice,

"Nor dare to thrust thy foolish self
Between me and my choice!"

A falling Water swoln with snows
Thus spake to a poor Briar-rose,
That, all bespattered with his foam,
And dancing high, and dancing low,
Was living, as a child might know,
In an unhappy home.