All on the ground entranced he lay;
At length the vision broke!

-When, lo!--a kiss as cold as clay,
The slumbering youth awoke.

That moment through a rifted cloud,
The darting moon display'd,
Robed in a melancholy shroud,
The image of a maid.

Her dusky veil aside she threw,

And shew'd a face most fair:

"My Love! my ELLA!" EDMUND flew, And clasped the yielding air!

Ha! who art thou?" His cheek grew pale: A well-known voice replied,

"ELLA, the lilly of the vale!

"ELLA-thy destined bride!"

To win his neck her airy arms
The pallid phantom spread;
Recoiling from her blasted charms,
The affrighted lover fled.

To shun the visionary maid

His speed outstript the wind;

But, though unseen to move,-the shade

Was evermore behind!

So Death's unerring arrows glide,

Yet seem suspended still;

Nor pause, nor shrink, nor turn aside,
But smite, subdue, and kill.

O'er many a mountain, moor, and vale,
On that tremendous night,

The ghost of ELLA, wild and pale,
Pursued her lover's flight.

But when the dawn began to gleam,
Ere yet the morning shione,
She vanish'd like a nightmare dream,
And EDMUND stood alone.

Three days, bewilder'd and forlorn,
He sought his home in vain;
At length he hail'd the hoary thorn
That crown'd his native plain.

'Twas evening :-all the air was balm, The heavens serenely clear; When the soft musick of a psalm

Came pensive o'er his ear.

Then sunk his heart ;-a strange surmise

Made all his blood run cold:

He flew,

-a funeral met his eyes!

He paused, a death-bell toll'd.

"Tis she! 'tis she !"-He burst away; And bending o'er the spot

Where all that once was ELLA lay,

He all beside forgot!

A maniack now, in dumb despair,
With love-bewilder'd mein,

He wanders, weeps, and watches there,
Among the hillocks green.

And every eve of pale St. Mark,
As village hinds relate,

He walks with ELLA in the dark,
And reads the rolls of Fate !

At fond sixteen my roving heart
Was pierced by Love's delightful dart:
Keen transport throbb'd through every vein,
I never felt so sweet a pain!

Where circling woods embower'd the glade,
I met the dear romantick maid:

I stole her hand,--it shrunk,—but no!
I would not let my captive go.

With all the fervency of youth,
While passion told the tale of truth,
I mark'd my Hannah's downcast eye,
'Twas kind, but beautifully shy.

Not with a warmer, purer ray,
The sun, enamour'd, woes young May;
Nor May, with softer maiden grace,
Turns from the sun her blushing face.

But, swifter than the frighted dove,
Fled the gay morning of my love;
Ah! that so bright a morn, so soon
Should vanish in so dark a noon!

The angel of affliction rose,
And in his grasp a thousand woes ;
He pour'd his vial on my head,
And all the heaven of rapture fled..

Yet, in the glory of my pride,

I stood, and all his wrath defied;
I stood, though whirlwinds shook my brain,
And lightnings cleft my soul in twain.

I shunn'd my nymph;-and knew not why. I durst not meet her gentle eye:

1 shunn'd her-for I could not bear To marry her to my despair.

Yet, sick at heart with hope delay'd,
Oft the dear image of that maid

Glanced, like the rainbow, o'er my mind,
And promised happiness behind.

The storm blew o'er, and in my breast
The halcyon Peace rebuilt her nest;
The storm blew o'er, and clear and mild
The sea of youth and pleasure smiled.

'Twas on the merry morn of May,
To Hannah's cot I took my way:
My eager hopes were on the wing,
Like swallows sporting in the spring.