The Beloved

Where the gay streamlet
Springs from the mountain,
Laughing and dancing
Came a sweet maiden
Bearing a violet,
Azure and odorous;
Smiling she dropt it
Into my bosom;
And on my forehead,
Planted warm kisses
Many and glowing—
"Breathe thro' thy harp-strings,"
Thus said the maiden;
"Breathe out the spirit
I have awakened"—
Swiftly she vanished.

Then came a dovelet,
Flutt'ring, complaining,
And a green cradle
Made of young branches,
Touching my lips
With sweet dewy honey.

As I grew older,
Beautiful visions
Glanc'd thro' the foliage
Of the old oak trees;
Near the clear streamlet
Rising irriguous,
Visions of beauty
Which my song chaunted.
Then did my country
And her bright children
Waken its music—
Then did love's passion
Thrill thro' the harp-strings,
And the bright eye-balls
Of that divine one,
Who in the darkness
Of the green garden,
Beam'd—and fled smiling.
Wicked one! darting
Into my bosom—
And then departing.