"'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 maniac now, in dumb despair, With love-bewilder'd mien, 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! HANNAH. 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 romantic 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, 'Twas kind, but beautifully shy. Not with a warmer, purer ray, The sun, enamour'd, wooes young May ; But, swifter than the frighted dove, The angel of affliction rose, And in his grasp a thousand woes; 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: I shunn'd her for I could not bear To marry her to my despair. Yet, sick at heart with hope delay'd, 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, Then as I climb'd the mountains o'er, I saw the village steeple rise,— I reach'd the hamlet :-all was gay; I met a wedding,-stepp'd aside; -There is a grief that cannot feel; It leaves a wound that will not heal; -My heart grew cold,-it felt not then; When shall it cease to feel again? |