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 lov'd, 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 fix'd my eye,

All over the wide lea:

My Horse trudg'd on-and we drew nigh

Those paths so dear to me.

And now we reach'd the orchard plot ;
And, as we climb'd 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 mov'd on; hoof after hoof

He rais'd, and never stopp'd:

When down behind the cottage roof

At once the Planet dropp'd.

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,

She liv'd unknown, and few could know

When Lucy ceas'd 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 seem'd a thing that could not feel The touch of earthly years.

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

Roll'd round in earth's diurnal course

With rocks and stones and trees!

THE

WATERFALL

AND

The EGLANTINE.

Begone, thou fond presumptuous Elf," Exclaim'd a thundering Voice,

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

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