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“ Ab ! 'tis but echó sporting with a grief
“ He cannot feel, in sooth, -he cannot cure ! “ Thus the world's hollow friendship brings relief,
“Specious in sighs of sympathy, to lure
“ The heart, then bid it keener pangs endure.”. Such was his sombrous thought.-Again, a treasure
Of sounds, to lap the soul in bliss, so pure
Delirious transports'o'er his senses pourid:
And every cadence, every tone, he stor'd
Rich in his bosom! Oh! it was a hoard
In high perfection's blaze he scarce adord,
xix. 'Twas now, as mid a shower of roses, blush'd
Young May. Thro' air the spirit of freshness flew; Red with the
crags were flush’d, And the green mead impearld with balmier dew!
There, Edwin's wonted path, of paler hue, Was cross’d at distance by a root-wreath'd stile,
And sidelong up a mountain led the view; Till it sank, darksome, in a deep defile, Thither the Minstrel look'd with more enamour'd smile.
And “ Come!” he cried, and seiz'd his faithful harp
or To thee, full oft, escap'd from care and woe, " And dullness and censorious envy sharp,
“ To thee, my life, my soul's best hopes I owe !
“ To thee, perchance, of all heaven's gifts below « The fairest boon ! O come, then, seek with me,
“ Sweet harp! that witching wood-nymph!-Let “ Where flow'd but yester eve such minstrelsy “ As never charm'd before, or Yarrow, Tweed, or Dee.”
He said ; nor linger'd where a soft-green larch
His old road chequer'd, but the glade retrac'd, And, eastward, to the horizon, some pale arch
Bridging the stream, in fancy's eye embrac'd,
As the tall mountain firs he brush'd in haste; Till now thro' parted mists, with lines of light
Here sparkling, there by shadow half o'ercast, The river open’d to his eager sight, And, thro’ the long fir-grove, a speck of glimmering
There, as he nearer drew, he saw that speck
Into a bridge expand, all hoar with rime, And slowly on the scene its arches break,
Or cloth’d, or tinctured by the touch of time:
And, ere a shelving rock he strove to climb, The bridge, from a low marish far outstretch'd,
Appear'd as if self-pois'd in air sublime, Towering where human efforts had not reach'd, But safe the shagg’d goat leap'd, the nestling owlet
That rock now scald, the parapet he grasp'd,
Which in the sapphire heaven thus seem'd to hang ; And straight from the loose crannied stone (that, clasp'd
With ivy, trembled to his footsteps) sprang:
The slender archwork where he bounded rang. Then, as he cross'd the bridge, he view'd the flash
Of waves where lichens to the granite clang, And the bigh flood the mouldering fabric wash, Sprinkle the briar rose-buds, and bathe the mountain:
Fast by the river-margin fring'd with gorse
And heathery bloom, his way he downward took. Deep frown'd the glenwood o'er his westering course.
Nor aught, as he sent on an anxious look,
Discern'd he, but a thorny tangled nook That clos’d his narrow path. The fearful doe
Scar'd at his quick approach, the branches shook. He paus'd.-Its wishes yet can love forego? Above were dusky shades, and sabler waves below.
Thro' trees and coppice, an umbrageous screen
He broke; when as uncurtain'd struck the sight A wide and level area, soft and green :
The foliage danc'd around in airy height;
And intermingling shrubs their blossoms bright Thro' all the sweep in gay luxuriance spread ;
While, such as fairy steps might well invite, Rich in its gilded roofing.overhead, A bower amidst the cirque a store of fragrance shed.
Flutter'd from fond emotion, Edwin trod
The turf. At every pressure, as he cross'd Its mossy verdure, sank the velvet sod:
The bower-roof blaz'd, as all with gold emboss'd.
“How dear" (he said and sigh'd) "one glance may “ This heart"_and trembling look'd. With scarce the
power To breathe, to all the world was Edwin lost ! Thro' the cool trellis twin'd with many a flower Had Edwin “ trembling look’d!” Who, who inspires the bower?
XXVII. 'Twas noon. Its rays from the red pillar's plinth
Shot down, as to salute a lovely fair; And, as half bending o'er a hyacinth
She stood, a sunbeam pencil'd her dark hair:
A lute beside seem'd more than half her care, As to that lute the virgin look'd askance!
And there was somewhat pensive in her air ! Alas! poor boy! no wonder in a trance So rapt !—from such an air-from such a conscious
Each shadowy eyelash, all the soften'd fire,
The sparkling of her fine blue eyes reliev'd; And the light gauze seem'd kindling to desire,
As flush'd with wishful sighs her bosom heav'd!
Her cheek as with the rose's tint deceiv'd The sight, where playful wav'd a truant curl!
Ah! well, poor Edwin! of thy sense bereav'd, As lips unclosing show'd their orient pearl, And melting languors touch'd the dear enchanting girl.
Closer he shrank, where blooms on every spray
A living texture, veild him safe from view; Yet fear'd the florets, opening to betray
The enamour'd thief. As to her form he grew !
When, with a sudden impulse, ever true
At once her air-her attitude--and drew
Divine the product of pictorial art,
Wak'd by young love when genius prompts our aim: Then lives in each expression all the heart;
Each stroke is radiance, and each colour, flame! How glow'd, how thrillid with transport Edwin's
frame, When, as a wizard work, he saw portray'd
His charmer's form, her mien, her look the same! The impassion'd picture he once more survey'd, Then thro' the trellis dropp'd, and plung'd amidst the
To bis fresh spirits every breeze was balm,
As by the river-marge he homeward hied,
Again the touches of his pencil tried,
And in each trace his former self outvied !
Flush'd with a glow of independent pride ,
open brow; now brilliant, now serene, His eyes of hazel dark; his step, his manly mien.