And that unknowing what he did, He leaped amid a murderous band, And how she wept, and clasped his knees; And how she tended him in vain And ever strove to expiate The scorn that crazed his brain. And that she nursed him in a cave; His dying words-but when I reached All impulses of soul and sense The music, and the doleful tale, The rich and balmy eve; And hopes, and fears that kindle hope, And gentle wishes long subdued, She wept with pity and delight, Her bosom heaved-she stepped aside, She fled to me and wept. She half enclosed me with her arms, She pressed me with a meek embrace; And bending back her head, looked up, And gazed upon my face. "Twas partly Love, and partly Fear, And partly 'twas a bashful art, That I might rather feel, than see, The swelling of her heart, I calmed her fears, and she was calm, And told her love with virgin pride. And so I won my Genevieve, My bright and beauteous Bride. LEWTI, OR THE CIRCASSIAN Ar midnight by the stream I roved, Image of Lewti! from my mind The Moon was high, the moonlight gleam Heaved upon Tamaha's stream; I saw a cloud of palest hue, Onward to the Moon it passed; Still brighter and more bright it grew, With floating colours not a few, Till it reached the Moon at last: Then the cloud was wholly bright, With a rich and amber light! And so with many a hope I seek 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, Alas! it has no power to stay: Ever fading more and more, When, Lewti! on my couch I lie, A dying man for love of thee. |