In one of those sweet dreams I slept, And all the while my eyes I kept My Horse moved on; hoof after hoof What fond and wayward thoughts will slide Into a Lover's head! "O mercy!" to myself I cried, "If Lucy should be dead!" IX. SHE dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove, A Maid whom there were none to praise, And very few to love. 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! X. I TRAVELLED among unknown Men, 'Tis past, that melancholy dream! Nor will I quit thy shore A second time; for still I seem To love thee more and more. Among thy mountains did I feel The joy of my desire; And She I cherished turned her wheel Beside an English fire. Thy mornings shewed, thy nights concealed The bowers where Lucy played; And thine is too the last green field XI. ERE with cold beads of midnight dew Had mingled tears of thine, I grieved, fond Youth! that thou shouldst sue To haughty Geraldine. Immoveable by generous sighs, Who drag, beneath our native skies, Pine not like them with arms across, Forgetting in thy care How the fast-rooted trees can toss Their branches in mid air. The humblest Rivulet will take Its own wild liberties; And, every day, the imprisoned Lake Then, crouch no more on suppliant knee, But scorn with scorn outbrave; A Britain, even in love, should be A subject, not a slave! ΤΟ XII. Look at the fate of summer Flowers, Which blow at daybreak, droop ere even-song; If human Life do pass away, Perishing yet more swiftly than the Flower, What space hath Virgin's Beauty to disclose The deepest grove whose foliage hid |